Red Ruins
by Cheshire
Summary: Aegon has the look of a dragon, but Rhaenys has their magic. When she is smuggled out of the Red Keep alongside her brother, it's her dragon dreams of a little brother they have never met that keep her focused as they drift through Essos to fulfill goals that seem unreachable. Rhaenys Lives AU. Targaryen Restoration themed.
1. Chapter 1

Notes: This fic has short chapters and some of them are very much in "drabble" style. Like Trinity, the chapters are not always linear. Originally posted on AO3.

* * *

"Septa, I'm fine," Rhaenys insisted, her temper flaring.

"Are you sure?" Lemore hesitated, glancing between the two siblings before finally excusing herself, shutting the door behind Aegon.

Her brother hurried to sit on the cot beside her, taking one of her hands in his. "What is it?"

"The Wall," she stated, Aegon's mind running through every possible meaning behind that before she clarified, "He's going to the Wall. They'll finally force him out of Winterfell and convince him to take the Black."

Soon Aegon was feeling as wrathful as she did. "And he'll agree? Even after finding out the truth?"

She gave a humorless laugh. "The Usurper's Dog never tells him the truth. He goes to the Wall thinking he's Ned Stark's bastard."

"When?" Aegon stood, pacing around the tiny cabin Rhaenys and Lemore shared.

"From what I could tell it will be in a few months, at most. We can't let this happen, Egg. He's our little brother-I know Jon and the others don't believe us, think any time my dreams are right it's a coincidence, but you _know_ he's out there. _The dragon has three heads_."

"We're not ready, we're nowhere near ready. We need a few years, not a few months, Rhae! He's going to die in the cold because Stark can't protect a child!"

Rhaenys shuddered, biting her lip, despair building until she forced it back down. She was a dragon. She was the sun. She would not let this break her.

"We don't need to invade to stop this. No, don't give me that look, think! He'll be sent with a small group, we'll just need people to stop them and...and..."

"Kidnap the son of the Warden of the North _in_ the North?"

"We have time to plan how to actually do it. We'll need trustworthy people, or at least ones we know will finish the job, and...and maybe...maybe I go, too."

Freezing, Aegon turned back to look at her, horrified. "What?"

"A Dornishwoman might be a bit odd, but I'll stand out way less than you, little brother. And if he is like us, there has to be something that will make him trust me. Maybe he dreams like I do."

"Or maybe he'll think you're delusional."

"He'll go to the Wall knowing whoever his mother is the answer is so horrible or huge that his 'father' would rather he risk dying than know it. As long as I can get him to take the time to consider what I tell him...he'll realize it's the only answer that makes sense."

"I don't like this. Not at all." Aegon took a deep breath. "But...but I'm not going to let him take the Black. It was bad enough when he was living surrounded by our enemies, at the Wall he'll be surrounded by criminals and Wildlings, as well."

They spent more time thinking through logistics, trying to come up with contingencies for any situation. When they had the best plan they were going to get, they simply sat in the quiet of the room for a few moments, gripping each other's hands.

"Egg...we're going to meet our little brother," Rhaenys whispered, worry finally replaced by excitement. "He's going to be here, with us, safe."

"He will be. We won't let anyone take him from us again."


	2. Chapter 2

It was Ghost that noticed something up ahead and Jon called for everyone to halt. There was an overturned wagon on the road, he realized, and a figure moving around it.

When he reached it, he saw a dark eyed woman staring out from under a massive amount of fur.

"...Do you need help, my lady?"

Tyrion had already taken charge behind him, he thought, and was directing the disgruntled men to help right the wagon.

"That would be so kind, thank you." Jon didn't recognize her accent, it definitely wasn't from any of the Northern regions, but he supposed it was not so late in the season that people might not be traveling through the lands.

He reached out a hand, gently lifting her to her feet. She stumbled against him, her cheek brushing his own, and he flushed to realize they were of a height. And there was something about her eyes, so dark they were near-black, that felt familiar.

Ghost pushed up against their sides and Jon immediately began to speak calming words to the woman, but there was no fear in her as she scratched around Ghost's ears and cooed at him. Jon watched, struck dumb, and barely noticed when the soft noise of footsteps through the woods reached them.

The guards towards the back went down first, though he couldn't see what had taken them down, and then the others were overtaken. Jon moved to help, but the woman grabbed his arm and smiled at him.

"Don't worry about them, they'll sleep it off."

He saw a man make a run for it, surely going for help, get caught in a trap a few feet into the woods. He glared at the woman, and then at Ghost, who made no move to help.

"What-what is this?"

"This is a rescue mission."

There was a sting at his wrist and by the time he could look down through her hold, Jon was blinking down at light shackles that she'd somehow placed on his wrists while he was distracted. And a little dizzy. Drugged, he thought, though found the panic that should cause too hard to manage.

"You've found the wrong group! No one here is a captive!"

"Oh, don't be silly," the woman shook her head, "of course someone is. _You_

Jon struggled as two large men came up behind him and held tight, a few more righting the cart, and then with a few flips to disorient him, Jon was chained to the inside of the cart and the woman was sitting next to him, draping blankets over them.

He felt like he was stuck in a lucid dream, nothing at all making sense.

Rhaenys watched her little brother looking around, probably for some way to escape. He looked so much like Aegon at his age, but his face was much harder to read. It was like Jon said her father's was, she thought, though the few memories she had of Rhaegar was of him smiling.

"Don't pout. You have so much to live for, you shouldn't be throwing away your life at the Wall."

Oh, that was _definitely_ anger, though with the drug in his system it was adorably impotent anger. "You act like you know me, but you seem to have missed the fact I'm just a bastard. I can actually accomplish things at the Wall!"

"I really couldn't hate Ned Stark more than I already do," she muttered, which caused Aemon to tense up. "Do you know who your mother is?"

Aemon stopped his 'subtle' attempts to escape the shackles and frowned at her. "...You want me to believe _you_, whoever you are, knows who my mother is?"

"I know, because I'm your older sister."

They sat in silence for a long moment, Aemon breathing harshly.

"...What?"

"Ned Stark took you from your dying mother's arms and hid you away at Winterfell, thinking only a few easily controlled people knew the truth. But he was wrong."

"My father-"

"Your uncle."

"...What?"

Rhaenys took a deep breath, patting the top of Aemon's head and hoping that the panic building in his eyes would be easy to deal with. As long as he didn't _cry_, she thought she was ready for his reaction. She just wasn't ready for him to cry.

"Your mother was Lyanna Stark."

He froze, then shook his head. "That's not-I can't have an _older sister_ if-"

"Half-sister, if you want to get technical, though _I've_ never thought of you like that."

"...If...if Lyanna Stark was my mother...then..."

"Rhaegar Targaryen was your father. _Our_ father." She removed the scarf around her face and the hood covering her hair-the same hair, nearly, as his own, the Rhoynish curls they shared distinctive in the North.

"Rhaegar's children were murdered," he rasped.

She pulled him against her, resting her cheek on his head (for a moment distracted by how soft his hair was, which was unfair, because she knew he must not use half the creams and oils she had to). "No, mother knew we weren't safe in the Red Keep-even if the rebels didn't kill us, the Mad King might have at any moment. She had decoys for us...no one thought that they'd...well..."

It was never a pleasant subject, the thought of the children who had been sacrificed so she and Egg could live, but she understood _why_ it happened.

"That's..."

"Your mother was in Dorne, you hadn't even been _born_ yet, when we were taken and hidden in Essos. You should have joined us, except Ned Stark reached the Tower right after your birth, and you hadn't been fit for such travel yet."

"But..."

"Didn't you ever wonder, why he just _would not_ tell you of your mother?"

"Of course I did! It made no...sense..."

"Exactly. If you're old enough to take the Black, aren't you old enough to keep a secret? Unless that secret..."

"...Was treason."

He was bright, as smart as she had thought he would be, from the dreams. Maybe smarter, still, once he was away from the stigma of being lesser than the people around him. And the drugs still in his system.

Aemon shivered, shifting so he could look at her again. "But even if all of that _is_ true, somehow, that doesn't explain how you came here and...found me like that."

"We knew you were in Winterfell, Aemon. Do you think no one has spies there?"

"...Especially with the King visiting..."

She snorted. "The Usurper is watched by everyone with half a brain, it's true. Your uncle is probably the only great lord _not_ spying on him, somehow."

"He's-"

"No, stop, I don't want to hear you defend him. You could have _died_, little brother. Do you know how many loyalists went to the Wall after the war? And what they'd want to do to _Ned Stark's bastard_?"

"That's...there's vows, they'd be my brothers."

Rhaenys chuckled, rocking him a bit. "If all you want is a new brother, I have one waiting anxiously to meet you."

"Here? You want me to believe that-that a Targaryen some would still think of as their King is _here?"_

"No, of course not. He's a teenager, not an idiot." She ignored the instinctive protest he gave at that. "He's in Braavos, once we reach him we'll continue on, making it as hard to track us as possible."

"And...do what, exactly?"

"You're still young and I wouldn't be surprised if you had...less than a royal education. So you'll train and study."

"But what will you do? And...him."

"Aegon. Or Egg, that's what I call him-he was so adorably bald as a little boy and it fit so well. We have plans, but you don't have to do anything you don't want to do. All we want is for you to live, and be happy, and hopefully spend time with us."

Rhaenys grinned and Aemon gave a tentative smile in return. She thought he might be in shock. She made a note to keep him warm.

* * *

I use Aemon as the name Jon would have as a Targ for lots of reasons, a whole collection was put together by someone here. I think, when actually considered, it's the best choice of Targ names for Jon (we know "Jon" was what Ned called him, so he could very well have had another name first).


	3. Chapter 3

Rhaenys rubbed circles over Aemon's back, trying not to laugh at the somehow matching, miserable looks on his and Ghost's face.

"If humans were meant to travel over water, we would have been born with gills," he groaned, curling into a tighter ball.

"Do not fret, little brother, we'll be in Braavos before you know it."

He just groaned, and she didn't bother trying to get more words out of him. It was his very first time on a boat at sea and while the storm beyond was mild, it still meant they were rocking more than normal. She herself, with all her experience on boats, was feeling a little worse for wear.

"Once we make port, we'll go straight to this lovely inn I know of, where there will be baths and large, soft beds."

As she spoke to him, to distract him from his sickness, she thought of all the details she would need to oversee-his clothing just wouldn't do, and Ghost would need a leash and collar, if only for show, and Aemon's grasp of any language other than Common was...unfortunate. But soon enough she'd have Lemore and Haldon with her and she could surely talk Aegon into taking some time off from plotting his conquest to teach their little brother something.

He was perhaps even more desperate than she had been to meet Aemon-Rhaenys at least had her dreams of him, could see and hear him, but Aegon had nothing but secondhand information.

"I wish you had grown up with us," she murmured, stroking gentle fingers through his curls. "I wish I was there for your first words, your first steps."

He shifted around until his cheek pressed against his cot and he could see her face. His skin was clammy and pale, but the worst seemed to be over.

"Why? If what you say is true," she fought back a scowl, he was still treating their relationship as a possibility and not the truth, "... shouldn't you hate me? I'm the reason your father died."

"What?! No, don't think that! Whatever reason father had for running away with your mother, that's not your fault. And that's not even how the war started-if our grandfather hadn't been mad, there would have been no war."

Their grandfather remained the worst nightmare Rhaenys had, she'd been convinced for as long as she could remember that he was going to kill her. Outliving him was one of her greatest accomplishments, even if it had little to do with her own actions.

"Mother would have loved you, I know it." Jon may have been a bit jealous of Elia, but even he had admitted he couldn't imagine her holding Aemon's origins against him (though he'd somehow managed to make that sound like an insult). "You would have been raised beside us, our little brother. None of the looking down on you for being a 'half-brother' like at Winterfell."

"Your-your spies told you about that?" He closed his eyes, pain etching across his features for a moment.

She shifted around until she could lay beside him, hugging him close. "It's not for _you_ to be ashamed of, Aems. _They_ should be."

His mouth opened, but then he seemed to think better of whatever it was he wanted to say, and he stayed quiet, instead.

The sun was bright and the breeze was pleasant in the port of Braavos. Her little brother was looking around in wonder, a true tourist, but she wouldn't hold it against him (yet).

"Come along, we can go sightseeing tomorrow!"

He followed obediently beside her. Rhaenys was still waiting for something to give-panic, doubt, something-and for him to decide he'd made a horrible choice and go running. She'd kept a few men with them, claiming it was for their safety, but in truth she knew she couldn't let him run off in a foreign land just for his piece of mind. She was the eldest, she had to protect her foolish little brothers from themselves.

They passed through a market and Rhaenys bought him a few treats to try, ones she thought might settle his stomach if it was still uneasy. But he seemed to appreciate it more when she bought a hunk of fresh meat on the bone for Ghost, who whined pathetically at the parcel all the way to the inn.

It was tough getting them to accept even the smallish direwolf, but they knew Rhaenys and eventually allowed Ghost into the rooms she'd rented, where he stayed out on the balcony with his dinner as they bathed and dressed.

"This is really what I'll have to wear?" Aemon frowned, pulling at his garments.

"Unless you want to go out in those furs of yours, yes. You'll die of heatstroke, little brother, and that's a horrible fate for a dragon."

He looked good, his build reminded her of Aegon's, now that she could see him out of his heavy Northern clothing and not curled up in a cabin. He walked towards her, pulling up stands of his hair so he could put it up, and she motioned for him to sit down.

"Have you ever had your hair braided?" She teased, running her fingers through the damp locks to work out the knots.

"I grew up with two younger sisters, what do you think?"

"So indulgent! Egg never lets me play with his hair." She leaned closer, whispering, "Not that that's any great loss, but don't tell him that."

Aemon chuckled hesitantly, still unsure how close to act. "Is his...is his hair like ours?"

"Oh, no, he has father's hair. Light colored, straighter, thin. He normally keeps it dyed, Jon always worried it would be too obvious, even though he could just pass for someone from Lys."

"That's the Jon Connington you mentioned?"

"Mm, yeah. He's weird, but he was father's friend." She started on the braids as she considered what else to tell him.

"He's one of our main connections to home, I guess. There's a few other exiles we know, but some people...well, we have to play different roles for different people. So most people don't actually know who we are."

Aemon made a thoughtful noise. "Like with me?"

"...Actually, in some cases, almost exactly."

"What do you mean?"

She wrinkled her nose as she thought of it. "The people we work with, one of them introduced us to the Golden Company...and claimed Aegon was a Blackfyre."

An uncomfortable silence stretched between them.

"It's not SO bad. They think he's a Blackfyre who will pose as a Targaryen, as opposed to the other way around, so Egg will still use his real name and everything." She licked her lips, looking around, wishing she hadn't brought this up yet. "We're _not_ Blackfyres. Or...anyone else pretending to be Aegon and Rhaenys. I remember the Red Keep, and mother and father, and being taken away with Egg. I even got to meet with my uncle, Prince Oberyn Martell, a few times, and he confirmed it. He said...he said I look just like mother did."

"If he knows your alive, why aren't you living in Dorne?"

"It's dangerous. I mean, I could, but Egg couldn't, and I wouldn't leave him alone."

Aemon nodded in thought and she didn't even scold him for moving his head. She thought that all those days together in the ship had helped, just the two of them so that he couldn't get distracted.

"Is there anything else you want to know? You can ask me anything you need it."

He hummed in thought and they stayed in silence for a few moments more.

"Is...Aemon what...what Rhaegar wanted to name me?"

"It's what you _were_ named, by your mother. But, yes, our father chose it. One of our relatives is a Maester named Aemon, he was the brother of Aegon the Unlikely."

"He must be _ancient_."

"I suppose so, I've never actually met him. But father used to talk with him, send ravens back and forth. His family...I suppose his family was about as small as ours. Smaller, even, and he reached out to whoever he could that was left."

She tied off the braid with a ribbon and pulled him around. "There's six of us right now. Maester Aemon is still alive, and there's you and I, and Egg, and then there's our aunt and uncle, Daenerys and Viserys. They're also in Essos, but...but we can't meet them."

Aemon frowned. "Why not?"

"Because everyone _knows_ about them. And no one knows about us. There's spies following them and if one of those spies were to find us, figure out who we were...it would be very, very bad."

Ghost had finished his meal and trotted back to them for pets. She knew some of the others wouldn't be happy she was bringing a direwolf back along with her brother, but she had Ghost to thank for how much Aemon trusted her, she knew.

"You said there were plans. That you had plans. What...what are they?"

Rhaenys bit her lip, considering what to say. She'd gone over so many versions in her head ever since she'd decided to seek out her littlest brother, but had never decided on one. He'd been raised in a household that all but worshipped the Usurper and he was already dealing with enough shocks, without being forced to realize he was on the _complete_ opposite side from where he thought he was.

"I think it's best if Aegon explained them. Or, well, the two of us together. There's a lot to take in."

He seemed to consider her, then Ghost, then her again, before reluctantly agreeing to wait.

"Now...why don't we go out and get dinner for ourselves? Ghost isn't the only one who came ashore hungry!"

Striding to the door, it was Ghost who immediately followed her, Aemon dragging his feet as he stayed deep in thought. Soon Aegon would meet them and then they'd make their way to the Shy Maid and even if Aemon wanted to bolt, there'd be other people making sure he didn't and a river for him to worry about.


	4. Chapter 4

Rhaenys soaked up the sight of her two little brothers standing across from each other in the small rented room. She'd decided the first meeting should be private (and certainly less harrowing than her first meeting with Aemon) and she was glad for it, if only to spare Aegon the embarrassment of more people seeing how awkward he was being.

"If neither of you too speak, we'll never get to leave."

Aegon scowled at her, Aemon ducked his head, flushing. They both tried to speak at the same time, then stopped, staring at the other as they waited for them to start again.

"It's...good to meet you, little brother. I've been hearing about you so long, I began to doubt I'd ever get to see you in person." Aegon stepped forward, clapping Aemon on the shoulder.

Aemon's eyes darted to Rhaenys, than back to Aegon. "I've only just learned of you...but...I'm glad to meet you."

"You two are awful at this," Rhaenys muttered, stalking forward and setting a hand on each of their backs, pushing them into each other. "Hug. You're brothers, even if you feel like strangers now, that will quickly change."

They hugged, Aegon long-used to just following Rhaeny's whims to shut her up and Aemon used to obediently going along with his girl cousins in the North. She had the impression he wouldn't so easily follow Aegon's orders, once they'd grown used to one another, but that was a battle she had time to plan for.

The brothers began a stilted conversation, Rhaenys interjecting to liven it up when it started to die off, and after maybe an hour of it they had both settled into speaking with each other and were passionately debating some historical battle or another.

The three of them were finally united, the three heads of the dragon that their father had died for, and she finally felt a weight that had been there ever since she'd discovered Aemon's existence lifting off of her shoulders. Together there would be nothing Rhaegar's children couldn't do. Taking back Aegon's throne would be child's play.

They departed that evening, after Duck and Lemore, and Jon, had materialized. Rhaenys gave Aegon an approving smile, realizing he'd told them to stay away to give Aemon more privacy with them. He'd clearly learned a few good practices of elder siblings from her.

She and Aemon had explored Braavos in the days they waited for Aegon and she wasn't surprised to see her youngest brother looking regretfully back at the city as they sailed away. This was his first real adventure, his first taste of Essos, and he hadn't yet realized he was just as much an exile from his homeland as they were, now.

Unsurprisingly, most of their men except Jon got along easily with Aemon-he was a skilled fighter for his age and knew many of the goings on in Westeros from being raised by the Warden of the North. He was not a particularly great story teller, but he didn't waste time on unnecessary details.

At first, Rhaenys was worried about Jon, how he was keeping his distance, staring at Aemon with a blank face. She made sure she was around, though out of sight, when they finally spoke, worried that some of Jon's apathy towards Lyanna Stark might be directed at Aemon.

"You look like your father," Jon said, after they finished the necessary greetings.

Aemon was clearly surprised. "I do? Everyone says I look like my-uncle. So I thought I must take after my mother."

"No." Jon paused, studying Aemon. "Your hair color, and eye color to some extent-though Rhaegar had dark eyes that could appear black at times, Rhaenys has them, as well. And your long face, that was...Princess Lyanna's. But...your cheekbones. Your brow. Your build...that's all Rhaegar."

She had thought Aemon didn't particularly want to know about their father, he always seemed to shutdown when Rhaenys spent too long speaking of him, but now he seemed to be soaking it up. Maybe he'd felt he was missing a connection that he had now found.

"You and he...you were close?"

"He was my...my best friend."

Aemon looked down, then back up, determined. "Would you tell me more about him? Not about the end...but about what he was like when he was younger?"

Jon readily agreed, Rhaegar was his favorite topic, after all. Slipping away, now satisfied that she wouldn't be needed, Rhaenys couldn't stop grinning. Their family, by blood and choice, was as complete as she could ever hope to make it.


	5. Chapter 5

Jon traced his finger down the family tree he'd been set to studying, eyes locking on Rhaelle Baratheon's line. "Cursed is the kinslayer," he muttered, staring at the entry for Robert Baratheon. With all the news coming from Westeros, all of the troubles that King Robert (the Usurper, he had to remember to call him that now, around the Targaryen loyalists and his family) was experiencing, Jon wondered if that was the cause.

Or maybe it was the Iron Throne itself. It had rarely been kind to anyone who sat upon it.

He looked across the room as he had that thought, to Aegon's space. When Jon had come to stay with them, the residents of the Shy Maid had been shuffled around to make room for him, and now they shared a cabin. They were slowly growing closer, no longer strangers and now maybe they were friends.

Whether or not Aegon would ever feel like his brother...Jon didn't know. A part of him almost felt like he was betraying Robb by even thinking it. Robb who had always been there for him, who had always tried to make Jon feel included in any way he could. Who loved him as a brother, who...who he thought would _still_ love him as a brother, even if he found out they were cousins.

With Rhaenys it was different. _She_ was different. Sometimes she'd say things that were a little too familiar, things that there was no way a spy would have been able to know about his childhood, but it didn't feel creepy when she did it. It just made him feel like she'd _been_ there, like in some odd way they'd grown up together.

Jon wasn't sure how much of his problems with Aegon weren't of his own making, if he got along so well with their sister. He had been raised in a household that held the Rebellion as righteous (his grandfather and uncle had been _murdered_, even if his mother hadn't been kidnapped) and now he was faced with someone who wanted to undo the whole thing. King Aegon VI, rightful King, as far as everyone Jon was now around thought.

Would his uncle fight against Jon's brother? There were no direct blood ties between them and Robert was (had been? the rumors were so confusing) his best friend. Robb wouldn't, he didn't think, if they waited until Robb was Lord of Winterfell he could get his cousin to bring the North to their side...but Aegon would never wait that long. He was talking in terms of years, not decades.

"Aemon?"

Jon's head shot up, he hadn't even heard Aegon enter.

"Are you coming to train?"

"Yes, sorry, I was just...thinking."

Aegon glanced at the papers strewn in front of Jon and raised his eyebrows, then shrugged. "I imagine you didn't spend a lot of time on indepth Targaryen history, in Winterfell."

"No, mostly just the more famous ones."

Aegon wrapped his arm around Jon's shoulder as he passed and they walked out together. "Who was your favorite?"

Flushing, Jon shook his head. "That doesn't matter, does it?"

"Oh, no, I know that look by now. Who was it, little brother?" Aegon poked him in the side and Jon couldn't stop a laughing gasp, trying to grapple his hands away.

"The Dragonknight!" he finally admitted.

Aegon laughed hard as soon as the implications hit him. "A little-a little self-centered, little brother?"

"I didn't know what I'd been named!" Jon pouted, realized he was pouting, and forced his face into a nearly blank expression he'd perfected back in Winterfell. "I bet _you'll_ say the Conqueror!"

"There's been many Aegons over the years, it's inevitable that one is one of the best of us."

Jon protested, remembering one of the details he'd noticed on the tree, "There's been nearly as many Aemons!"

"Ah, but known of them have been kings," Aegon teased, ducking away when Jon attempted to swat him. "Now, come along, you can use the sword practice! You've got a long way to go!"

"You're two years older than me!"

Jon followed him, grinning, only realizing as he picked up his practice sword and prepared to spar just how natural it had been to speak like that with Aegon. Maybe he'd been wrong, maybe they could be brothers in more than blood, after all.


	6. Chapter 6

"Why is this Magister so fond of Aegon?"

Rhaenys looked up at the question, then over to where Aegon spoke to Illyrio, who had recently arrived with gold and gifts, for meetings with Aegon, Jon, and others. "He loved his second wife, Serra, he sacrificed his reputation to marry her. She died of greyscale, pregnant with a child who would not have been much younger than Egg."

Aemon frowned at her. "So he sees Aegon as some sort of surrogate son?"

"His wife was our relative."

"What?"

"You've been studying our history, but there's parts of it that are...more delicate. Haldon might gladly teach you them, but Jon wants you to know the parts that he thinks are important, first. The Good Queen Alysanne birthed many children, one of them the Princess Saera. Who fled to Lys and paid her way with her body."

Aemon's cheek were pink, his eyes wide. "So...so his wife was...?"

"One of her descendants, yes."

"That's many generations ago."

"And yet, it was Lys, and so she had the distant blood of the dragon and a look not much different than Aegon's. Even after all these years, her family had past down the story of their relation to Saera, and were proud of it."

"So," Aemon frowned, working through the information, "he thinks his child could have looked like Aegon, could have been of an age with Aegon...and in another life, perhaps welcomed as a distant cousin?"

"We can assign all sorts of motives to the Magister, Aems, but we can't know for sure. All I know is that the first time we met him, not long after crossing the Narrow Sea, he held Aegon for a goodly amount of time and just...stared at him. He's doted on him ever since."

That seemed to be enough of an answer for her littlest brother, who turned back to his reading.

"We were formally introduced, but did not have the chance to speak." Magister Illyrio's words jolted Jon from his daydreaming and he had to talk a moment to work through the thick Pentoshi accent.

"Aye," he paused for a moment, remembering Rhaenys' words on the Magister, and added, "I've been run ragged with studying. I think my brother must have been quite the handful, that my sister and Jon needs must keep me from any distraction."

The Magister laughed, eyes sparkling down at Jon. "Mayhaps she imagines you as a future Hand, once our Lord Connington finally sees fit to retire."

Jon grimaced. "By the gods, I hope that isn't true. I have no desire to run a kingdom, even if Aegon is an active king."

"And what _do_ you want to do, my prince, once your family has won back your throne?"

That was a question Jon had asked himself more and more over the moons since he'd come to live with his siblings and their odd companions. "I do not know, my lord, I thought I'd be a black brother at the Wall right now, a lord's bastard still, not a Targaryen Prince. I suppose I could join the Kingsguard, but Aegon has stressed that we need to," he cleared his throat, "repopulate our family."

"And I doubt the King would be very happy, with his little brother at risk."

Jon wondered if Illyrio had wanted many children. If he had imagined a brood of young sons with his Serra. "He is my brother and he will be my King, if all goes well. It would be the place of every Westerosi to risk themselves for him."

Illyrio laughed again, his body shaking with it. "You are a good boy, Prince Aemon. I am glad that your sister found you." He patted Jon on the head as one might a hound. "And I am glad that we were able to speak. Your brother's cause means much to me."

Watching him go, Jon pondered Rhaenys' words again, and Illyrio's, and wondered why people outside the North had to be so damnably confusing.


	7. Chapter 7

"That's Jaime Lannister."

Heads whipped around to look at Aemon as he approached, shock rippling through the group, before Duck hit the man-Jaime Lannister-in the back again.

"Stop!" Rhaenys ordered, approaching them, and Jaime looked back and forth between Aemon and her, eyes wide and wild.

"You...you're dead..." he rasped, tremors going through his form.

She had vague memories of this man, as she had with many of her grandfather's Kingsguard. Her great-uncle Lewyn she remembered the clearest, but he was dead, as was Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell. Jaime was alive, and so she had Seen him in her dreams, sometimes.

"What are you doing here, Ser Jaime?"

"How did you find us?" Haldon demanded, clearly shaken.

She was glad Aegon wasn't here, wouldn't have to be the first to face this. And that Jon wasn't here, because his hatred of Jaime Lannister had never abated, even when he realized he hadn't been quite as awful as he'd thought.

Jaime tore his gaze from her and looked back at Aemon, who stood awkwardly apart from the rest of them, as if not knowing if he should have interfered when they'd just thought he was a bandit lurking about their camp.

"I came for...for Rhaegar's son."

Aemon had grown better and better at keeping his face blank, a skill some called Northron ice, but that Jon insisted their father had been good at, as well. Now there were cracks, however, the shock too great not to show through. He was only a boy, for all he claimed he was a man grown.

"How did you find out?"

"Your uncle, Ned Stark."

"There's no way he told you," Aemon protested. "He would never have trusted the Kingslayer with that information."

Jaime gave a wry laugh of agreement. "He didn't outright. He was frantic when we got word you'd been," he glanced around the group, before continuing, "kidnapped. Took his men, his daughters, and started back to Winterfell. Robert sent me and a few of my men with him, as well. Lord Reed joined us at the Neck and, well, even your uncle has a breaking point it seems. He never said anything outright, but a few mentions of a promise to your mother, some talk with Reed about Lyanna Stark...eventually, I figured it out."

Rhaenys cursed, she wasn't the only one. "You and who else?"

"No one else. Who else would? Except for a few of the useless guards I was sent along with, everyone there were loyal to the Starks. They might have known all along and just gone along with the deception not to kick up a fuss."

"But how did you come to be _here_?" Aemon broke in.

The look Jaime gave him was something almost tender. "I promised Rhaegar I'd protect his family. I...I failed that. When we figured out you'd been taken to Braavos, I packed a bad and set out by myself to find you." He looked at Rhaenys. "I thought you'd be a prisoner. Or a slave. I didn't think you'd be...with the impossible."

Taking pity on him, Rhaenys waved to Duck to let him up, and told the others to put their swords away. "If he wanted to kill us, he could have. If this is a ploy to get information out of us, the Usurper or his father wouldn't have sent him." She walked straight up to him, surprised that now that he was free, he still dropped to one knee before her.

"Princess...I...how?"

"We weren't even in the Red Keep when your father sacked it, Ser Jaime. And, from what I understand, most of the people who knew me well enough to tell that could not bring themselves to look so closely at the child's body in my place."

He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. "No. It was...I still have nightmares of it, of those little bodies, and...and your mother. But I didn't look closely."

"Perhaps we should continue this in a tent?" Aemon suggested, glancing around the party.

"Right." Duck started giving orders, setting up a new guard shift and everything else they should have already been doing. Then he pushed Jaime along into his tent, Aemon and Rhaenys following.

They sat in silence for a time, Haldon eventually joining them with bowls of food (Rhaenys insisted Jaime have a share, as well).

"You said," Jaime began, hesitantly, "you said _we_ weren't there."

He was tired, dirty, unwashed. He had bruises on his face and probably many more under his clothing. His hair was sheared short and he had the scraggly makings of a new beard along his jaw. But for all he looked horrible, his eyes were alight with hope.

"Aegon, too," Aemon answered, before Rhaenys could work herself up to a headache trying to decide how much truth to give.

Rhaenys didn't think she'd ever seen a man look both like he'd been punched in the gut and just been told the best news he'd ever heard.

"Little Prince Aegon, I can't..."

"King Aegon VI," Rhaenys corrected.

Jaime sucked in a breath. "He would be, wouldn't he, if Rhaegar had won..."

"You mean to say, he _will_ be. Because you see, Ser Jaime," she leaned closer, pulling his full attention to her from where it flickered desperately between she and Aemon, "we have hidden for a long time, but no secret stays buried forever. Maybe tomorrow, maybe next year, maybe a decade from now, the Usurper and his dogs will find out we yet live and they will hunt us down with even more force than they did our aunt and uncle. We will never be safe...not until Aegon sits on the Iron Throne."

The tent was silent for entire minutes. Aemon set his bowl down, as though he'd lost his appetite, and Rhaenys, despite all of her worries, made a mental note to make sure he ate later.

"You're right." Jaime stared down at his food, shoulders slumped. "Robert, Cersei, my father...they would never rest until you were all dead." He looked back up. "I came here to rescue Jon, to protect him. That hasn't changed. Your father was my king in all but name."

"Then you would serve Aegon as loyally as you would have served my father?"

Haldon and Duck started to protest and she waved them off. Aemon simply watched, eyes unknowable for now.

"_Yes_. Yes. This...this feels like a dream, princess. Like perhaps I died on my journey here. But I know it's the hells I'm destined for, not the heavens."

"We won't meet up with my brother again until a moon's turn. You came for Aemon, you will guard him for now."

Jaime stared at her brother. "Aemon?"

The boy in question shifted awkwardly, shrugging. "Apparently so."

After they had spoken a bit more of logistics, they sent Jaime off to sleep on a bedroll at the edge of camp for the night. Rhaenys sent a protesting Aemon off to bed (after making sure he'd taken a few bites of his dinner) and then dealt with Duck and Haldon.

In the morning, Aemon had found his way to Jaime before Rhaenys had even woken up (all this time and he had still not outgrown his Northron habit of rising early) and they sat together, speaking, with guards watching them carefully. She heard Jaime address him as "Prince Jon" as she went by and couldn't help but roll her eyes-if nothing else, Jaime would win Aemon over by agreeing to use that name where everyone else insisted on using his true one.

She didn't know how she'd explain this new event to Aegon. She certainly didn't know how she'd explain it to Jon. Worst, yet, she had to wonder why Varys didn't know _or didn't warn them_ that Jaime Lannister was seeking Jon. And worried who else might be coming for them.


	8. Chapter 8

In Rhaenys' dreams, there were images she knew and ones she could not. There were images she would realize in the future and ones she might never learn the truth of.

There was a lion wearing antlers like a mane, her cubs arranged lifeless or listless around her.

There was ice as far as she could see, up, up into the sky. On the other side she could see movement, closer, and farther away, and closer again.

There was Aemon holding a sword, the hilt of flames and the blade of night, the world glowing blue around him.

There was a dragon with three heads and scales of red, and black, and white, that shined orange, and silver, and blue in the flickering of flames. It's eyes were black, and black, and purple.

There was Aegon, or their father, or Aegon again, clad in black armor atop a mighty horse with scales like a lizard, rivers running red with blood and rubies below its hooves.

There was a wolf with three eyes watching her as she watched it.


	9. Chapter 9

Jon felt like a craven. Despite a sennight with Jaime Lannister as a de facto guard to him, he had only now worked up the nerve to ask him what he'd been craving to know ever since his first appearance.

"What was happening in Winterfell, with the Starks, after my fa-uncle found out I was gone?"

Jaime sighed, running a hand through his hair, the movement awkward as though he still hadn't adjusted to the shorter locks. He'd lost a little of the exhaustion that had been around him when he first arrived, and was looking less gaunt and haunted, but he still had not fully recovered from whatever trials he had faced.

"Do you want a brief overview, my prince, or details of the events I know of?"

"The details, Ser Jaime, or I wouldn't have bothered to corner you while everyone else was busy."

He gave Jon a wolfish grin and a respectful nod at that.

"Let's see...as I've already said, we were still on the Kingsroad making our way to King's Landing, when news came you had been kidnapped. Lord Stark insisted on leaving the next day, packing up everyone and everything he'd brought along. Robert was...displeased, they had a bit of a row, actually, and your uncle resigned from being Hand before he ever really got started."

Jon snorted, wondering if that counted as a shorter time than Cregan Stark's infamous Handship.

Jaime squinted off into the distance, as if lost in thought, and Jon figured that he was trying to decide just what details of that to give. "Robert sent me along because he hates me, and Cersei, and knew it would make us miserable, and because he's in love with your uncle and wanted to make a show of helping him.

"We rushed, Lady Sansa wasn't particularly happy about the situation, I remember, but your cousin Arya was notably glad to be going back North and very, very worried about you."

Jon grimaced, slumping. He had reminded himself over and over again that if he'd taken the Black he might not have ever seen Arya again, anyways. That he might have died at the Wall within a few years of it. That where he was now, what he was doing, was no different. But it was. Because now Arya had to worry about the unknown and she hated that.

"When we reached Moat Cailin, some Crannogmen were already waiting for us-Lord Robb had sent ravens out to all the keeps in the North to be on alert. Among them was Lord Reed and he was..." Jaime smirked at the memory, "he was furious. That was the first major sign I can remember, that something odd was going on. He had lots of furtive conversations with your uncle, too far away for anyone else to really make out what they were saying, as we continued on. But sometimes I'd catch things, like him talking about how much he owed Lady Lyanna, about a promise Lord Stark had made, about how he found it disgraceful he wanted to hide you at the Wall."

He paused, again, giving Jon a meaningful look. Jon had heard it all from Rhaenys, already, multiple times, and from Aegon, too. And Jon Connington, once he'd warmed up a bit more. They all thought it was wrong that his uncle was sending him to the Wall. It was clear Jaime could be added to that camp, as well.

"When we reached Winterfell, it seemed like whenever your uncle wasn't in with his lords, or the men he had out searching, or clutching at your cousins like they might disappear, he was in the crypts. I snuck down, once, to see what he did there...he knelt before your mother's statue, praying to her."

Jon grimaced and nodded. "My cousins, you mentioned...how was Bran? Did he...did he recover?" Was he dead, he had wondered many times, that energetic sweet little brother of his who had been so unnaturally still when Jon had left.

"Yes." Jaime hesitated, something dark in his eyes. "He...lost the use of his legs. My brother had returned after the attack where you were taken, instead of continuing on to the Wall, and had been there for some time. He'd designed a saddle that allowed Brandon to ride and he and the Maester had come up with a wheeled chair like the sort the Prince of Dorne uses to more easily get around. Your cousin Robb had started construction on ramps in some areas and your uncle had Brandon's rooms moved to the ground floor of one of them."

Smiling in relief, Jon dismissed the odd tone Jaime took when talking about Bran. Some people would say it was better for Bran to be dead and perhaps Jaime was one of them. But Tyrion, for all Jon had only known him for a short while, would surely be a good influence to keep Bran from growing too morose about his situation, the way he had been for Jon.

"And what about Sansa's betrothal to Joffrey?"

For some reason, Jaime looked worried, maybe even fearful, before that was gone as well and he was answering, "Still on, technically, though you uncle seemed ever closer to breaking it as Tyrion and some of the guards I'd brought told...stories of some of Joffrey's...misadventures around the Red Keep."

Jon frowned, wondering what that could mean.

Suddenly, Jaime let out a soft chuckle. "Your little cousin Arya-you were the one that gave her that sword, weren't you?"

"I...well..."

"No, you don't need to defend it to me, my prince, I had a good laugh at Lady Stark's expense when it all came to light. Your uncle couldn't bare to take it away from her, the last gift her possibly dead favorite brother might have given her, and instead he let her start to train."

"Truly? He's allowing Arya to learn swordplay?"

"Yes, he is. She's quite good at it, for her age and with how little training she's already had."

Jon laughed, feeling better. He was doubly glad he gave her the sword, now, for not only did he know it was something she had wanted, but it was something that would distract her from missing him.

"Was there anything else you can think of? That I should know?"

Jaime frowned in thought, then shook his head. "No, I don't think there was anything else to concern yourself with. Your family is worried, but together, and Brandon is recovering. If anything, your disappearance was probably a good thing-if King Aegon does mean to take King's Landing sooner than later, the Starks will be safely in Winterfell."

That, too, was good news he hadn't considered. He still knew his uncle might ride South with his banners to answer Robert's call for help, but at least the girls he'd grown up with as sisters wouldn't be there, would be tucked safely away.

He stood, knowing they'd have to get back to the others soon (no one really trusted Jaime around him, yet, which he very much understood). "Thank you. For telling me all of that. And...for coming after me." He flushed. "I thought Robb might send men, if he could, but I didn't think anyone would really come this far."

Jaime smiled down at him, though it was tinged with grief. "I couldn't not. I had no reason to pay you mind when I visited with Robert, but I wish I had...now that I'm seeing you, there's so much of your father in you. Knowing that one of Rhaegar's children still existed in the world...I can't recall being so happy in years. And now, following you, I know that one of the mistakes I thought I'd _never_ be able to rectify is something I can atone for."

Jon remembered Jaime from Winterfell, cocky and perfectly put together. He didn't know what this Jaime had faced, in the time between then and now, but for all he _looked_ worse for wear, Jon was willing to believe he actually was happier.


	10. Chapter 10

The news of Daenerys hatching her dragon eggs spread through their group like wildfire. It sent Aegon into a mood that Rhaenys decided she wanted nothing to do with, whereas Aemon brooded over the topic, but it was difficult to tell if it was anymore than normal.

Jon was the worst, though, cursing Illyrio for giving those eggs to Daenerys. Rhaenys didn't blame him for that-three eggs, three dragons, three children of Rhaegar...if she didn't know better, she'd say they should be theirs.

But she did know better, her dreams wove stories in the night of what this meant and why it couldn't have been them. Perhaps it was cruel of her, to be thankful this wasn't their burden, but they'd been through so much, lost so much, that Rhaenys let herself be cruel for this. Daenerys was the first, but she would not be the last.

"Illyrio thinks I should marry her," Aegon explained to Aemon later on.

Their little brother made a face at the idea. "Do you want to? Do you need to? I remember what you said about Uncle Viserys."

"She has dragons. Real, living, fire breathing dragons. The Conqueror used three to take Westeros, we could use three to do the same."

"But one of us wouldn't get a dragon, because she only has three."

"We'll all have dragons, Aems, don't fret," Rhaenys reassured him, wrapping her arms around Aemon and pulling him close.

"You've seen it? In your dreams?"

"Aye," she teased. "I've seen it. Beautiful dragons, just for us."

Aegon watched them, then came to sit in the empty space at Aemon's side, cuddling close. "You never said anything about that. Is that why you told Illyrio we didn't want those eggs? I thought it was because you knew they wouldn't hatch."

"It was a long ways off, when I first had the dreams. We were in Westeros, older than even now."

"How? If they're not hers, how do _we_ get any? Those are the first dragons in generations."

She hummed in thought, considering how much to give away. Aegon could sometimes be too impetuous, still, but between herself and Aemon she thought they could talk him down from rash actions.

"It was on Dragonstone. Perhaps we found long-hidden eggs of wild dragons. Or a cache that used to be part of our family's collection. I don't know."

Aemon cocked his head to the side, brow furrowing. "We're supposed to start in Dorne, aren't we? That's what you always talk about in your meetings, that your Uncle Doran expects you there."

Aegon nodded. "It's isolated enough from the rest of Westeros, a safe place to land."

"What about Dragonstone? That's where our ancestors planned their invasion, isn't it? And supposedly there's conflict between Robert's heirs and his brothers. Stannis Baratheon holds Dragonstone, if he's distracted fighting on the mainland or has his ships blockading King's Landing..."

"He may not leave much of a garrison behind on Dragonstone," Rhaenys murmured, smirking. "He doesn't have much attachment to it, it's _our_ ancestral home, his is Storm's End. A Targaryan might defend it to the last, but he wouldn't, not if he was distracted. Not if we play it right."

Aegon was grinning, eyes heavy lidded as he no doubt fantasized about the great dragon he would soon ride. She wished she could show her brothers the dreams, that they could see how brilliant they looked. Armored in night-black, sat atop their large mounts, ready to take on the world.

"We'll be like the Conqueror and his sisters," Aegon muttered. "Retaking the Seven Kingdoms with fire and blood."

Aemon looked over at Rhaenys and smirked. "Does this mean we'll both have to marry Aegon?"

Their laughter resounded through the whole ship at the look on Aegon's face.


	11. Chapter 11

Westeros was falling apart and Jon was in Essos, on a boat, forced to study things like the Seven and other useless topics.

He felt bad for how little he cared, because Septa Lemore was very kind to him, and possibly the closest thing to a mother figure he'd ever had (outside of Rhaenys, but for all she acted decades older, sometimes, she wasn't _that_ much older). He just couldn't understand how anyone could care about such gods.

"It's not so much about the worship," Aegon tried to explain, tucked away on the deck with him as they did chores and Ghost lazed about at their feet. "It's about the religion."

"That makes no sense."

His older brother laughed at him. "Think of it this way-in the Faith, there's very strict rules, and customs, and there's people who actually enforce them, right? Septas, Septons, the High Septon...there's a hierarchy to it all. And as Targaryens, as rulers, we're a part of Septons will preach about us, about our holiness, our righteousness, how we're saving the people from the chaos of some mad bastard boy on the throne or the red priestess pulling Stannis' strings, and people will believe them. Because people have been trained all their lives to believe them."

Jon frowned. "That...that doesn't sound _right_."

"What is right? _Won't_ we be better for the people? And isn't it a good thing, to have others help us stabilize our rule and calm the smallfolk?"

"But..."

"Don't give me that look, it's no different than the Citadel."

"What? What about the Citadel?"

Aegon took a deep breath, letting out a long-suffering sigh. "Anyone that controls information, _controls information_. They decide what history remembers. And while they have their own agenda, they also want to keep the favor of the current rulers."

Jon let that sink in. "So they write history to favor whoever is in charge?"

"Exactly. They tell us there was nothing but horrible, constant wars before the Conqueror came, because that's what our family wanted them to say. The newer history books decrease the awful things that the Baratheons and Lannisters have done, while making our family sound even worse than it was. Even the Mad King had been a decent ruler for a time, but in a few more generations no one will remember that, they'll only have the books."

"That's horrible. Written history is-it's all we have. If it's not accurate..."

"It's never _been_ accurate. Do you think those Andal maesters wrote accurate accounts about your First Men ancestors? Don't they even call some of your old heroes 'knights'?"

Now that Jon thought about that, there were many examples he could think of. "That's...But how do we know? What's a lie?"

Aegon shrugged. "We don't. We have to work with what we have, read between the lines, compare as many accounts as we can find...but we might never learn the actual truth. It's lost." He gave a soft laugh. "Well, except to things like dragon dreams, I suppose."

Jon wondered how much of what he'd learned over his life had been false. And, worse, if his education had been purposefully made that way. After all, he hadn't known quite how bad the Wall was, even though he could have easily been told. And his father had always painted Robert Baratheon as some sort of hero from a song, but now he knew how wrong that was.

He looked back at his brother, who'd already re-focused his attention on mending the net in his hands.

"We should change that."

"Hm?" Aegon glanced back up at him with a small frown across his brow.

"When we take back the throne, we should...we should put in place rules about what can be called a history book. About accuracy."

"Even if it means some unfavorable information about us might be written down and preserved?"

Jon nodded, jaw set and face firm. "Especially then-if we let bad things be written about us, then people know they can trust the other parts of what they're reading."

Standing up straighter, Aegon pulled Jon into a one-armed hug, kissing his temple. Jon leaned into the touch, relishing the show of open affection.

"Think about that, when you're having your lessons. And come up with a plan how we can enforce it. If it works out, we'll implement it once we have everything under control."

Jon grinned. He'd have to think more deeply on it, and probably meet more Maesters to ask them about their writing before coming up with anything concrete, but it felt good to have a goal now that wasn't just helping his brother win back his throne.


	12. Chapter 12

"Why would you do this?! Why would you hide this from me?!"

Jon slammed his fist into the table, the wood cracking, the pain barely registering to him.

"Aemon! Calm down!"

He pushed Rhaenys' hands from him, backing away from her, glaring at both of his siblings. "No, you have no right to even ask that of me! My family is _fighting a war_ and you've been _keeping it from me_."

His father-uncle-and cousin were waging war on the South. Arya was somehow _missing_. Theon had gone back to the Iron Islands and _betrayed them_. And apparently every other person on this ship had known about all of it but him. If someone hadn't spoken of it in front of Ghost while Jon slept, while he shared Ghost's body, his ears and eyes, Jon didn't know how long it would have been before he'd be told. For all he knew, Aegon would have been sitting on the throne and Jon would have been wondering why the Starks weren't coming to swear to the new king.

"It was for your own good," Aegon stated, face cold, tone commanding. Jon had jokingly called it his King Aegon act last time he'd done it, but he didn't feel half as amused now.

"My own good? What gives you the right to decide that?"

"I am your older brother. The head of our household. I have every right-"

"You're barely a man grown! And I am not some slave that you can-"

"Stop it, both of you!" Rhaenys had stepped in between them, blocking their glares. "Please, Aemy, we weren't doing this to hurt you."

Jon snorted. "No, you were doing it to keep me here like some caged animal, not even knowing what I was giving up. You need your precious three headed dragon and you'll use me however you want to get it."

The slap wasn't entirely unexpected, they all had their tempers, Rhaenys' was perhaps the worst of all once she could be worked into one. His cheek stung, but it only increased the strength of his scowl.

"We are not _using_ you! We are protecting you! You are our little brother, you've been kept from us for years," she gritted out. "What would you have done? Run off to Westeros and gotten yourself killed? By the Lannisters, who think they murdered us? By some supporter of the Usurper's brother, who would recognize you for a Targaryen when they actually looked?"

His hands, already in fists at his side, clenched tighter. "Or did you not want me going back because you knew I'd be fighting in support of a King who wasn't Aegon?"

"Is that what you want?" Aegon's voice was calm, collected, but his eyes were still hard. "Would you prefer the Usurper's brother on the Iron Throne, the way your uncle does?" Jon didn't know what to say to that, so he kept his mouth shut, even as Aegon stalked closer. "Because if you don't support me, don't support our family, say that now. We'll give you coin and drop you off somewhere."

Rhaenys was watching them with horror in her eyes. "Egg-"

Aegon continued as if he hadn't even heard her. "But don't think we'll take you back. Don't think once _we_ win our family's throne that you can crawl back to us and pretend like you were loyal all along, like you have any right to stand beside us. We have had enough of traitors, I won't accept anymore, not even from my brother."

Jon was still angry, so angry, but Aegon's words terrified him. He'd grown to love his siblings and even now, knowing they'd been manipulating the information he received, he didn't want to just...never see them again.

"Am I so easy to get rid of?" he rasped, stepping back towards the door. "If I'm not perfectly obedient to you, that's it? I'm out?"

When Aegon went to speak again, to surely say something else that would feel like a dagger to the heart to Jon, Rhaenys turned on him as well. "Stop it! Stop it!" She looked between the two of them. "Aemon, you are going to go to my cabin and lie down, you need time to think this through. Aegon, _you_ are going to go to stay here and you won't leave until you've calmed down!"

Jon shrank into himself, flinching away as Rhaenys grabbed his arm and dragged him down the corridor, pushing him into her cabin and closing the door firmly behind him.

At first he wanted to force his way out and confront them again, but he wasn't sure what Rhaenys would do if he did. Instead he collapsed onto her bed, staring at the wall, barely noticing as the tears started to flow down his cheeks.

Time past, though he didn't know how long, and he thought of the Starks, of Robb and Arya, of Ned, and Bran, and Rickon. He even thought of Theon, who had been horrible to him more often than not, but still a part of their family.

Except now Jon had more family, the same way Theon had, he supposed. Family he should have been raised within, should have known from his first days to now. But that didn't make them his only family. He couldn't just excise his feelings for the Starks from him, no matter how much the people around him hated the "Usurper's Dog."

"Aemon?" The voice startled him from his wallowing and he looked at the entrance to the cabin, where Aegon stood.

"What do you want?"

Aegon bit his lip, eyes falling closed for a long moment, then started forward. He sat on the edge of the bed, hand settling against Jon's arm. "I wanted to explain."

Jon scoffed, the sound wet with his tears.

"Please. I just...When we found out, it was already too late to stop your uncle from declaring for Stannis Baratheon, from taking part in the war. And they're doing...we worried you wouldn't think it through, that you'd just run off and get hurt."

"So you'd lose your heir and be in a worse position."

"So we'd lose _our little brother_ and be _devastated_ by it. You can be...impulsive. We all can be. We're blood of the dragon, sometimes we act before we think. And...and since you couldn't do anything about it...even if you did manage to find your uncle's troops, might not have survived...we decided to keep the information from you. Until there was some resolution."

"Resolution?"

"Until your family were back in Winterfell, or at least until they defeated the Lannisters. Something conclusive. Not just the...the unknown of war."

"Isn't this what you wanted? Chaos in Westeros?"

He sighed, shifting around so he was lying down behind Jon, holding him close. "I did, we did. But...we didn't think your mother's family would be such a large part of it. The Starks barely leave the North, even less after...after our family's fall."

Jon swallowed hard, blinking back more tears. "My uncle was the Usurper's best friend. You knew whatever happened would involve him."

"Him, only, we thought. And...not all-out war, not the Usurper's brother declaring his children bastards and trying to take the throne by force. I'm so sorry, Aemon, I know that despite everything you love the Starks, even your uncle.."

"He raised me. He was the only father I ever knew! And now he might be dead on some battlefield, thinking _I'm_ dead, too."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"You could still help. You could make some deal with Stannis Baratheon, take the Golden Company, and Dorne, and the others you have and fight to get rid of the Lannisters, decide on the future after that."

Jon felt Aegon shaking his head. "We're not ready. And even if we were, even if we had everyone in place at a port and all the ships we needed to cross...we might not get there in time to accomplish anything. And even if we _did_, the future can't just be decided on a whim. We can't assume that the Usurper's brother would be glad for our help or would peaceably come to an accord on the throne."

"My uncle, my cousin Robb, might already be dead and I don't even know." It hurt to even think about. His brother, his best friend and rival, even if he was only his cousin by blood, couldn't just _die_ like that.

"...Yes. They're doing well, but the Riverlands were already being attacked by Lannister forces before he ever even marched South, after your uncle's wife accused them of attempting to kill your cousin and skirmishes broke out, and _both_ of the Usurper's brothers are declaring themselves the true king. The kingdoms are divided three ways in this war."

"And Dorne?"

"If it wasn't for Rhaenys, I'm not sure they'd even be supporting _me_, Aemon. Uncle Doran is...he's an odd man. With more plots than could ever come to fruition. He's not taking part, not yet."

Uncle Ned, Jon thought, would have helped. But then he was forced to rethink that, to think about how easily his uncle had let him go to the Wall without ever telling him the truth of his parentage. Of how he'd spoken of Robert, made excuses for all of his worst actions even before they knew what a bad king he was.

"...I don't...I don't _want_ to leave you."

Aegon's arms tightened around him. "Then don't. You're not expected back there, remember what Ser Jaime said-they all know you're in Essos."

"Dead or a slave," Jon scoffed. "How can I let my family mourn me when it's a lie?"

"...You would rather _we_ mourn you, in truth?"

He flinched, closing his eyes and pressing his face to the bedding. He'd thought he'd have more time before his loyalties were at odds. He didn't want to choose.

Finally, as if uneasy with the lack of answer, Aegon said, "...We can't help the Usurper's brother wage his war, even if your mother's family supports him. But the younger girl, Arya, she's supposedly missing...and we could send a few men to look for her. We could at least find out what actually happened to her."

Jon turned to look Aegon in the eyes. "Truly?"

"Yes."

"_Thank you_." He hugged him back, relieved that at least he was helping the Starks in _some_ way. He was still scared for them, of what happened to Starks in the South and what could happen to anyone while at war, but at least he could have this.

Aegon squeezed him tighter, relaxing. "When I take my throne, I'll pardon them, you know. Your uncle rebelled for a valid reason, and he had nothing to do with my mother's death. He protected you, even if barely, and I won't forget that."

Jon sniffled, feeling the last of his anger starting to drift away. He imagined what it could be like, if they managed to take the Iron Throne with his Stark family intact. Sansa would love any excuse to come to court and maybe they could foster Arya somehow, too, let her be as wild as she wanted to be away from her mother's oppressive nature. And Robb...maybe he could find a way to get Robb there, too, a Stark presence at court.

He knew it was probably a useless fantasy, that the chances of everyone coming through the wars, and of his uncle and cousins agreeing to Aegon's rule without a fight, were slim. Still, he couldn't help his dream.


	13. Chapter 13

Rhaenys could count on her hands how many times she'd gotten to see someone from her mother's side of the family since she had to flee the Red Keep. She wasn't even sure she'd have been allowed to, if she hadn't pushed so hard for it, with the vague memories of them urging her own.

She was glad that it wasn't just her and her brothers (and the aunt they did not dare contact), but Uncle Oberyn and his daughters were...an acquired taste.

So, she found herself sweeping in to save her brothers from them more often than not. Aegon had met their uncle twice before, but seemed not to know how to interact with the Sand Snakes. Aemon, for the most part, was fine with them...except for when they flirted. He was adorable when he blushed, though, and Rhaenys decided it wasn't hurting him to get some exposure to just how hungry women would be to him.

His interactions with Uncle Oberyn, though, were what gave her pause. She knew her uncle had told Aemon to call him "nuncle," too, had told him that if his sister were still alive, she'd love her children's sibling like her own, but Aemon was still so caught up in how he'd been treated while a bastard that he seemed to be waiting for it all to be revealed as a trick.

But being with the Martells was the closest they could get, right now, to what their family would have been like if the Rebellion had never happened, and Rhaenys wanted everyone to get along.

But Uncle Oberyn wasn't just there for a friendly visit, he never was. They were in the final days of planning out their (re-)conquest of Westeros and he was there to help. He'd already gone over the Dornish numbers (less than they'd thought, but these were fresh and trained, so they wouldn't begrudge that) and started in on the Reach.

"And, of course, along with the Tyrell's offer of aid as you take back your throne, there is another offer." Oberyn looked ready to roll his eyes as he handed over the last scroll. "Lady Margaery Tyrell, a sweet, intelligent girl. Pretty. A few years younger than you."

Rhaenys watched Aegon grimace and unroll the scroll, a small painting falling out of it as a lovely young woman with brown hair and eyes, a sweet smile curving her well-shaped lips.

"It's fairly accurate," Oberyn assured them, smirking at it. "I think Willas knew I'd be giving my opinion of it."

She passed it over to Aegon, who glanced at it, then passed it to Aemon, who, seemingly at a loss for what to do with it, just set it down. Jon gave a soft snort, clearly amused that none of them bothered handing it to him.

Frowning, Aegon looked over the scroll. "Tell them I won't formally agree to anything until after I've taken my throne. There's a chance that I might not survive," he held up his hand to ward off their protests, "and then Aemon will be King and I won't bind him to an agreement like this."

Uncle Oberyn frowned at him, but seemed to take it in stride. "I'll let them know you want to meet with her, first."

"We can trust them, even without the betrothal?" Aemon asked, looking worried.

"As much as we can trust anyone. Lord Mace, the current head of their household, technically, wants Margaery to be Queen, but I think if there are any other options other than the Lannisters, he'll gladly take them. Willas is his heir and along with his mother, Lady Olenna, they're the true powers behind their house."

"So they're like Rhaenys?" he teased, making Aegon laugh.

Oberyn clapped Aemon on the shoulder and Rhaenys gave a soft smile when he didn't flinch or tense up.

"Exactly. Mace still blames me for Willas' accident, but that won't reflect on any of you. The prospect of little baby dragons with Tyrell blood," Rhaenys couldn't miss how Aegon grimaced, "will be enough to keep him loyal, for now."

"Fine, that's settled." Aegon stood, gathering the papers he'd be keeping. "We still need to talk to the commanders about where they'll be landing and double check all of the supply lists in case they've forgotten something they'll need for Westeros."

"Well, they've hopefully remembered their cold weather supplies, Winter is upon us and Westeros is much colder than most of the Free Cities." Aemon snorted and Oberyn smirked. "Yes, yes, I know, they won't even be going north of the Neck. You must allow us delicate Southron bodies some warmth."

Reaching over to ruffle Aemon's hair as he tried to duck away, Aegon added, "And hopefully this will all be over with long before Dorne sees any snow this Winter."

"Snow's not _that_ bad, it was quite striking in the sunlight," Rhaenys said, feeling some need to defend her littlest brother's cultural heritage, or whatever it was that made him so attached to the cold.

Aegon's eyes widened at them. "It was snowing when you were in the North? It was _summer_."

Aemon looked at him, eyes equally wide. "I told you about summer snows."

"I thought you were joking!"

Oberyn was still sitting down, clearly laughing at all of them. When Rhaenys realized that not a single one of the men were going to be able to move on, she took the initiative, almost managing to kick the chair out from under her uncle as she pushed her brothers towards the door.

"Let's worry about the weather in the South first. We can worry about snow when Aegon's on the throne and we have a royal progress to plan." That got cringes from them both, but they were obedient enough to change the topic to what supplies the elephants would need.


	14. Chapter 14

As they drew closer to returning to Westeros, the plans that had previously been focused on their conquest began to shift to more practical needs, at least where Jon was concerned. Now it was lessons on etiquette, it was working on diminishing his accent into something more neutral, and it was obtaining objects that he'd normally say were strictly about utility, like his clothing.

They spent hours with a tailor in Illyrio's manse, who poked and prodded at him, taking his measurements, holding up different materials to get Rhaenys' opinion. She, thankfully, did ask him a few questions about whether he found certain things comfortable, but she paid no attention to his comments on their style.

He had to admit she probably wasn't wrong to ignore him on that. The North was behind the rest of Westeros in almost all ways and he'd never paid particular attention to fashion, to begin with. It didn't help that he was distracted, pushing away thoughts of Sansa and Theon and how much they'd like a process like this.

After that it was a cobbler, a leatherworker, all manner of people who had something to do with clothing.

He'd all-but forgotten about the activity as the workload steadily increased and he spent his days learning and training, matching swords and lances against his brother, Duck, and the most trusted sellswords they had with them. It wasn't until he'd retired one evening after a long soak in the bathes that Rhaenys appeared with servants bringing in pile after pile of clothes.

She forced him up and into a dressing gown, a servant combing out his hair as Rhaenys showed off his new boots, his new trousers, and more.

The tunic Rhaenys eventually handed him was like something out of the pictures of Targaryens in the history books. Mostly black with little red details, defined shoulders, clean lines. Jon ran his fingers over the material, thinking only Sansa and Lady Stark's finest dresses had ever felt so soft.

When he focused more on the embroidered pieces, he almost laughed. Right where it would rest above his heart was a red three headed dragon-the center head had little flecks of amethysts for eyes, while the two on the side had darker stone-one with eyes of hematite, a shining grey that looked black from certain angles, and the other with a smokey quartz, a brown so dark it was nearly black.

"I suppose the both of you have matching sets?"

Rhaenys grinned and held up the front of the dress that she had laid on the bed, their coat of arms and its colorful eyes on display. "We're the three heads of the dragon. And no one is going to forget that we're united in this."

It wasn't until later, as they left for Westeros, the two of them sailing with the main fleet to Dorne and Aegon going off to Dragonstone for the initial strike, that Jon saw Aegon's armor-night-black, as their father's had been, with a dragon's head for a helm and wing-like details at his shoulders and hips. And on his breast was the ruby crest like the one so famous from the Battle of the Trident, but with eyes of hematite, smokey quartz, and amethyst.

"We go with you into your fights," he murmured, pressing his hand to Aegon's chest. "In spirit, Rhaenys and I are always with you."

Aegon held the back of Jon's head and kissed his forehead. "I will win back our family's throne, little brother. We will have the lives we were always meant to have."

Jon had armor of his own, though he doubted he'd be allowed near enough to fighting to ever have need of it-as Aegon's heir he had to be kept safe. When he first saw it, he was impressed, but quickly distracted by the shield that rested with it. It may have had a black background, but painted upon it was a white and red weirwood tree, with a grinning face. He'd teared up at the reminder of his mother, at such a clear sign of acceptance of her from his siblings, and vowed to use it well if ever he was put into the field.


	15. Chapter 15

Rhaenys loved Dorne. She'd read about it, dreamt about it, plied her uncle and cousins, and Ysilla and Yandry, for details about it, and as soon as she set foot on the sandy beach it felt like coming home.

This is where she might have grown up, at least partially, if the Usurper hadn't killed her father. She would have fostered at Sunspear, spent the hottest parts of the year in the Water Gardens. With a second Queen, her mother could have even come for long visits with Uncle Doran, who wasn't healthy enough to travel to the Red Keep.

She shook off her imaginings and stalked forward to meet the people there to greet them. Her Dornish style dress was in orange and red, Martell and Targaryen colors, and it flowed wonderfully as she moved. Behind her she heard Aemon following, light on his feet after so long at training, but plodding just a bit with his reluctance.

Around them, the Dornish people cheered. Rhaenys grinned and waved, her circlet glinting in the light. "Aemon, wave," she hissed.

"They don't want _me_ to wave, Rhae."

"You're my little brother, Aegon's heir, they love you, too."

Reluctantly, he lifted his hand and waved as well. There was no change in the enthusiasm of the crowd, no one that seemed displeased, and she thought whatever her uncles and cousins had done to prepare the people must have been quite successful.

There were horses waiting, surrounded by dozens of Martell guards, and...a woman who looked vaguely familiar. It took a moment, and many of the visual clues of her dress, to place her and then Rhaenys was grinning and hurrying towards her, motioning her up when she curtseyed deeply.

"Cousin Arianne!"

They embraced like old friends, though they'd only communicated through the occasional letter tucked away with more pressing information. Still, this was Doran's only daughter, his heir, and she would hold Dorne for Aegon someday.

"Cousin Rhaenys! You look exactly how I'd imagined you!" She hugged back firmly before her eyes wondered to Aemon, a few steps behind. "And you must be Prince Aemon, it's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Aemon thankfully didn't flush, or mumble, but Rhaenys thought it was a near-thing. Arianne was beautiful, wearing a low-cut dress, and looking at Aemon like she wanted to eat him alive. Fighting a frown, Rhaenys looped her arm through her brother's and smiled sweetly, instead. Arianne was a full seven years older than Aemon, most definitely a woman grown, and not the sort that Rhaenys would match him with.

"It's so kind of you to come greet us, cousin. Are we going straight to meeting Uncle Doran?"

Arianne looked between the two of them, something sparking in her eyes that Rhaenys couldn't identify, and nodded. "Yes. He doesn't normally leave the Water Gardens, but for your homecoming, of course he made an exception! I only wish the King could have made the journey with you."

"Aegon wanted to have two handholds in Westeros before starting his campaign in full and Dorne was already assured, as we knew you desired to see the kingdom set to rights again once more, as well. And to make those who would wish harm to the blood of Nymeria pay."

When they entered the castle, it had so many steps and narrow pathways that Rhaenys didn't blame Doran for avoiding it. By the time they reached him she was jokingly telling Aemon he should carry her the rest of the way and he was looking tempted (she thought he just wanted something between himself and the way Arianne looked at his somewhat-bared chest in his Dornish garb).

Prince Doran awaited them on his throne, with his two sons, Trystane and Quentyn, beside him. Rhaenys did her best not to look anywhere but his face, having heard in detail about his disease. It was easy enough, with so many people on the sides of the room watching her, their gazes reminding her to be on her best behavior.

_I am blood of the dragon,_ she reminded herself, _I will not be bowed by their judgements._

Aemon let her take the lead, still, and she would have scolded him, as he _was_ the Prince of Dragonstone, but it was a unique situation.

Within ten minutes they had finished with introductions and Doran's swearing of a preliminary oath to Aemon in lieu of Aegon's physical presence, and then they were taken into another room to feast.

She'd studied the houses of Dorne, the lords and ladies of note, but never had she been in one place with so many people she was expected to act like she knew. Her time in Essos, no matter how carefully Illyrio and Jon tried, could not prepare her for this.

Aemon actually seemed better-unnerved by the positive attention, but not unfamiliar with the activity. The North might be mostly a too empty land of cold and snow, but it still had its nobility, and he had grown up in the heart of it.

"So...when will the betrothal be announced?"

Rhaenys startled, turning in her seat to look at Arianne. She and Aemon had been given the seats of honor, right next to Prince Doran and his heir, though as close family so they would have been seated with the Martells regardless.

"Excuse me?"

She smirked, something a bit like Uncle Oberyn in her eyes. "Between you and the little Winter Prince." She motioned to Aemon, who had found a small group of nobles to discuss Essosi spear techniques with and seemed to now be enjoying himself.

"What? No, Aegon hasn't made betrothals for either of us. And certainly not to each other."

Rolling her eyes, Arianne turned her attention to a blood orange in front of her, carefully picking it apart. "You should. It will settle some of the less...accepting of our lords by making him seem less of a threat to King Aegon."

Rhaenys scowled. "He's not a threat, he's our little brother."

"I know that-Uncle Oberyn and our cousins have made that quite clear-but not everyone else does."

She looked back at Aemon, really looked at him. He'd grown up a lot in the short time he'd been with them, but he was at that age where boys did that. At fifteen he'd call himself a man grown, but to Rhaenys both her brothers might always be boys. Still, he wasn't unattractive-refined Valyrian features with Stark coloring had created a nice combination. And he was very fit, if the Dornish clothing wasn't making that clear, the times she'd seen him training shirtless surely would have. Aemon was also sweet, a kind and caring young man who used his attention to detail to notice people's favorite treats or when they needed to replace a tool just as often as he did in his studies or their planning sessions.

Still...she bit her lip and shook her head. "It would be a waste. That's two more potential alliances that Aegon would have to forgo."

"Mm, just something to think on, cousin. You've worked very hard to get here, you deserve a treat for yourself."


	16. Chapter 16

The others, Jon and Ser Jaime among them, claimed that this was a "good" first battle for Aegon. It was short, there weren't too many combatants on the other side, and the goal was clear.

Knowing that _this_ had been an easy battle made him more nervous about what would come.

His ears still rang with the noises of it and he didn't think he'd get the smell of carnage out of his nose for a very long time. When he wasn't careful, his hands would shake, the rush of battle having left him unsteady once it faded.

This wasn't the first time he'd killed a man, Uncle Oberyn had made sure he was well-versed in that, but it was the first time he'd stormed a castle and been forced to kill men who were simply defending their home. It wasn't their fault the Usurper's brother had been given Dragonstone as his seat and their honor forced them to fight even when it was obviously a lost cause.

He was glad he'd sent Aemon and Rhaenys elsewhere, that they didn't have to witness it. Neither of them were the soft sorts, but Aemon had known too little emotional comfort in his life and Rhaenys had known too much terror. Even hours later his men were still stripping bodies of their armor and dragging from the beach, letting them sink into the water to feed the fish. They had no time for burials or pyres, no time to respect whatever gods these people believed in.

Jon found him dwelling over the battle in the throne room, kneeling before the great chair. "You can sit in it, you know."

"Technically it's Aemon's," he pointed out, lips quirking though he couldn't quite manage a smile.

He'd seen too many of his opponents' eyes during the battle, seen too many looks of fear when they lost, of pain when his sword found its way through their flesh. It was well-known that Valyrian steel was a boon in battle, but he'd never guessed just how much until he had Blackfyre in his hands when he actually had to _kill_. Even the best gambesons and mail could only do so much against it.

"I hardly think he'd begrudge you the chance to sit in the throne that would have been yours if the Usurper had lost."

This was his ancestor's castle, moreso even than the Red Keep. This was where his namesake, the Conqueror, planned his invasion of the rest of Westeros. And that throne was a part of its history.

"Is it odd, that we just fought for this island, but I feel as though sitting in that chair will make everything real, finally? That once I do that, there's no going back?"

He heard Jon sigh and sit down beside him, his still-gauntleted hand clapping down on his pauldron. "You worked your whole life to get to this point and now that we're here, you have to look beyond it. We've started the conquest and now we have to finish it. Anyone would find that daunting."

"Anyone?"

"Only a madman enjoys waging war, my King, and that's not what you are. But you know this is the only way you, and your siblings, will be safe."

Aegon squeezed his eyes shut, then nodded. "You're right. I can't let nerves dissuade me from this. We still have a throne to take back, our lives to win back."

The throne of Dragonstone was still intimidating when he sat on it, staring out at the hall beyond, but there was a rightness to it. This was where his ancestors sat, where they held court over their lands before Aegon I built the Aegonfort. He was finally home.

"As soon as we're sure the island is secure, send for my siblings. We'll plan our next steps on the Painted Table."


	17. Chapter 17

**Interlude 1**

Mace had been grinning for so long his face hurt, but he wasn't about to stop. A Targaryen, back on the throne-a _sane_ one, with a worthy heir already in his brother if Willas' contacts were to be believed.

And here was the proof of that, the first step-ravens sent to every kingdom, announcing that Aegon VI Targaryen was here to claim his throne with his sister and half-brother.

If all went well, his Margaery would soon be Queen!

Ned didn't know what to do, what to say. With one raven everything had changed. Now everyone knew he'd harbored a Targaryen and, worse, lost him. If Jon had gone to the Wall, none of this would matter, Jon would be safe behind his vow and no one would look at Ned like he'd been plotting treason all these years.

He'd take a million suspicious Baratheons and others, though, if it meant he didn't have to see the betrayal on the faces of his family.

A bastard on the throne, his own brother dead after betraying him, a Targaryen in Essos with dragons, and now someone claiming to be a dead boy.

And Ned Stark, the brother Robert had always wished he had, had been harboring one of Rhaegar Targaryen's sons this whole time.

Stannis felt like there was no one left he could trust.

Out of all the pieces, and players, and moves that Petyr had come to anticipate, this was not anything he'd known of. His plans would need to change, of course, but this was only a setback to the small-minded players. Success at the game meant adapting and no one was better at that than Petyr.

Tywin hadn't thought about the day of the Sack in detail in years, there had been no real need. But now he found himself going over and over his memories of Elia Martell and the bodies he'd assumed were her children, trying to remember if there had been anything out of place. There was no way of knowing for sure if the babe was Aegon, but the girl...had she truly been Rhaenys?

He'd only glanced at them, he may have ordered the deaths but he hardly delighted in the corpses he created. And now, so many years later, he didn't know one way or the other. He hated not knowing.

If his father hadn't so recently passed, Edmure thought that the raven he received would have done it. Hoster Tully had wagered everything on overthrowing the Targaryens, had used the Rebellion to buy at least one marriage to a high lord, and Edmure had heard enough rumblings from the loyalists over the years to know that everyone looked down on him because of it. In their minds, it didn't matter if one of the men Aerys had tortured to death was a Tully's betrothed, the Riverlands had no cause to rebel.

He didn't doubt that the Targaryens would feel the same. Especially if it was true about this Prince Aemon, if he'd truly been the Bastard of Winterfell-neither Catelyn nor any of the rest of their family had hidden their hatred of the boy. He could only hope that the affection he might have for his cousins could shield the Riverlands from the worst.

The raven he received was absolutely delightful. Euron couldn't help but think of all those Baratheons and Lannisters, content in their rule, when all the while there was a shark waiting to lunge at their bloody legs in the water.

He didn't really care how it happened, or what they wanted, no one could stop him now-not his niece, not Stannis Baratheon, not Aegon VI Targaryen. But it was good for a laugh.


	18. Chapter 18

The stairs going up to Dragonstone castle seemed to go on forever, but a part of Jon appreciated that. Each step gave him longer to appreciate the view around them, the home of their ancestors that was nothing like what he'd seen before. They'd use techniques from Old Valyria to make this place, he'd been told, and so much of it was covered in dragons and fire wyrms, in creatures that were intricately connected to Valyria in the legends.

In creatures that he had a bond to, from his very blood, if Rhaenys was to be believed.

Ghost didn't care, though, happy to bound over the steps and the mountainside where it wasn't too steep. Jon and Rhaenys, arm-in-arm, kept a more sedate pace as they went.

At the top, Aegon waited for them, grinning. "Welcome home!" He gathered them up in his arms and Jon couldn't help but laugh at his giddiness.

"Come on, I've had rooms set up for you two near mine."

They settled into their rooms, enjoyed a quiet lunch, and then Aegon, wanting to show-off his conquest, led them on a tour. Halfway down what seemed like a random hallway between two areas Aegon wanted them to see, Rhaenys stopped, turning in circles.

"Rhae?"

Aegon turned at the sound of Jon's voice, eyes widening. "I've seen her look like this before-Rhae? Sister? Is it something from a dream?"

She slowly focused again, nodding. "Yes...this hallway...I've seen it before."

Jon exchanged a look with his older brother, excitement building within him. The only Dragonstone related dreams Rhaenys had ever mentioned all revolved around the same topic.

Seeming to have decided on the direction, a determined look overtook Rhaenys' face as she started down a side hall, then found a panel in the wall that slide back and away, revealing a staircase going down. Jon grabbed a torch from the wall nearby and grinned.

Behind them, Duck let out a groan. "This is it, this is how I become the worst Kingsguard in history," he muttered as he followed them down. "All three of you will die down here and it will be on me."

"It won't be that bad-if all three of us die, you'll probably die, too," Aegon countered and while Jon couldn't see his expression he could _hear_ the smirk.

They had to pass through two more doors, Rhaenys doing...something...to them to get them to open. Then, unexpectedly, they ended up in a large room with near a dozen doors, the atmosphere oppressive, making the hair on the back of Jon's neck stand up and Ghost's hackles rise.

Rhaenys let out a soft curse, studying the ones closest to them. "I...I don't know."

Aegon's shoulders slumped. "We'll just have to try each of them and hope for the best."

"No. No, I...I don't think that's a good idea." They looked at Jon and he frowned at them. "You can't feel that? The...wrongness?"

They shook their heads, Rhaenys watching him thoughtfully. "You have magics I don't, we don't. Maybe it's something to do with them." She looked around. "I'll try to have another dream, there's herbs I brought from Essos that can help, sometimes. Maybe I'll have a clearer vision of this room."

"We're just giving up? Just like that? We've come too far, let's just try _one_. There's enough of us here that if it's dangerous beyond one of the doors, we should be able to get away."

Aegon set his hand on the handle of the closest door, but before he could turn it Ghost was there, pushing him away with enough force to send him falling to his backside.

Laughing, though there wasn't much mirth within him, Jon went over and laid a hand on Ghost, petting him. "That one is definitely not the right one."

"...Can Ghost tell that?" Rhaenys was watching the two of them, now.

Jon looked at the doors, then back at Ghost, and slid to sit on the floor. "We'll try. Just...don't be disappointed?"

"Don't worry, little brother," Aegon slid over to rest next to him, giving one of his curls a tug. "We won't judge you too badly for being less cool than Rhaenys."

He spared only a moment to roll his eyes at Aegon before shutting them and concentrating on that thread of connection between himself and Ghost. One moment, he was a human, the next he was inside Ghost, looking at the world through his duller sight.

They sniffed around the room, searching for clues. Some of the doors gave off a stench that screamed its wrongness to them, that Ghost's brain associated with danger and, sometimes, even monsters. Others had the lingering scents of blood and gore beyond, and Jon decided that those might have traps or be too dangerous.

Two doors seemed fine, both with a slight scent of fire that Ghost didn't particular like but Jon decided wasn't an issue. They walked back and forth between them, concentrating with all of their senses. Finally, after enough time had gone by that Aegon had fallen into a doze on Jon's shoulder, they caught the slightest hint of reptile from underneath one of the doors.

That had to be it.

He jolted back into his body, eyes fluttering open. An elbow in the side got Aegon off of him and Duck gave him a hand up.

"There's two doors that seem safe, but I _think_ this is the one we want."

He'd seen that most of the doors were subtly different during his search and now that he was looking as a human, he could just make out slight carvings in the edges of the door. He thought they looked Yi-Tish, though he didn't know why the door would have them.

"Right, I'm going first," Aegon stated, pulling Blackfyre from its sheath at his side.

"Your grace-"

"If this is dragon-related, a Targaryen should go first, Ser Rolly. Don't worry, I won't jump head first into danger just because I can. I can hardly leave these two alone to rule." It was said jokingly, but Jon knew that having Rhaenys and him around had changed many of Aegon's plans, since he had to include them and their safety.

Duck took a deep breath. "I think Ghost should go second, I can bring up the rare."

When they were all in agreement, they started down. This stairwell was not like the others, the steps were shallow and worn, as if they'd been tread upon for a very, very long time and they seemed to never end.

Just when Jon was starting to despair of ever finding the bottom and wondering if that was the trap of this door, Aegon let out a call from ahead. "It's a cavern! A big one!"

A few more steps and Jon was through, the space suddenly expanding. All around them was black, shiny rock (dragonglass, his mind provided).

"It's even hotter in here!" Duck complained from behind them, pulling at his collar.

Jon shared a look with Rhaenys, then Aegon, and confirmed that neither of them felt this heat, either. Glancing at Ghost, he realized the direwolf was panting from it, clearly displeased.

"This is a good sign," Rhaenys stated, already moving ahead of them again despite Aegon trying to interfere. "There's magic here, strong magic."

There was some sort of pit in the center of the cavern that she was going towards and Jon hurried to follow, ordering Ghost to stay back near the stairs, just in case.

"This can't be." Aegon was ahead of him, could see inside, and he stumbled to his knees, reaching out.

By the time Jon got there, Aegon was already holding a dragon egg in his hands. It was almost pure black, with silver along the rough edges. Rhaenys' was red with large splotches of orange. And that left...

White, and blue, like winter roses in snow. Or woven into Ghost's fur. As soon as he saw it, he knew it was his, the same way he'd known Ghost was meant for him, as well. Holding it in his hands, he could _almost feel_ it. He could only imagine how strong the connection would be when it hatched.

Ghost nosed at it, giving it a lick, wrinkling his nose. Jon laughed and hugged him with one arm, holding the egg with his other.

"You're about to get a new brother, Ghost. But this one will _definitely_ grow bigger than you."

He wasn't the only one grinning, his sister and brother looked just as enamored and Duck was watching with his own excitement clear.

Dragons were a game-changer. Their aunt might have her own three, but they were actually in Westeros, raised by Westerosi, and with at least two kingdoms aligned with them so far. No one here would be able to ignore them as they ignore her.

"Now what?" Aegon turned to Rhaenys, waiting for her to tell them everything.

She grimanced and shrugged. "I...don't know. I saw us coming here, I saw us with the eggs, and I saw us with full-grown dragons. The in-between...the dreams didn't bother with."

"Let's take them back to our rooms and then decide," Jon hurried to intervene, not wanting to force Duck and Ghost to stay down here any longer than they needed to. "We'll go through what literature we have on them and try to figure out how it used to happen. This isn't like Summerhaul, we're not trying to bring them back when there aren't any, it might be easy."

Rhaenys shot him a grateful smile when Aegon agreed and they all started their climb back up, each taking a turn to complain about just how long it was taking on the return.


	19. Chapter 19

"Septa Lemore has returned!" Rhaenys called to them, grinning, already running her way towards the staircase that would lead to the landing beach.

Jon groaned, but followed. Lemore was nice enough, certainly she wasn't anything like Septa Mordane and didn't find Jon's worship of the Old Gods a personal offense, but she was still a septa. But Rhaenys, who wasn't particularly religious either, clearly favored her-he could only imagine what it must have been like, sometimes being the only two women around like they'd been.

For all that Rhaenys clearly mothered her little brothers, she deserved a mother-figure, too.

He followed at a more sedate pace once Aegon had shouted that he'd be along when he could be. Down, and down, and down, wondering why their ancestors had never stopped to think about what getting back and forth to the castle would be like for people without dragons.

Once he got to the beach, he frowned, realizing that Septa Lemore had another, smaller figure with her. Something about them was familiar, even if they had a hooded cloak on, and he was about to ask when the figure took care of it for him.

"Jon!"

"Arya?!"

She flew at him, jumping onto him and nearly knocking him back into the sand. He clutched back at her, holding tightly. The hood had fallen back and he could see that she'd sloppily cut her hair short at some point and her face seemed far leaner than he'd ever seen it.

"Gods, Arya, what are you doing here? I heard you'd gone missing!"

"Missing?" She snorted, waving away the idea that people might have been concerned about her in that purely Arya way of hers. "I went looking for _you_. When Ser Jaime didn't come back, I figured something must have happened to him!"

"And you thought _you'd_ have better luck finding me then a grown knight?"

"I did, didn't I?"

Lemore let out a soft chuckle and from the way she was watching them, Jon bet that it was more _her_ finding _Arya_. "She was in Pentos when I was leaving. I visited Illyrio one last time before coming here," Jon remembered Lemore had seemed oddly reluctant to return to Westeros, though he hadn't been close enough with her to ask, "and I saw this girl on the streets, looking like a little version of you, Aemon."

Arya wrinkled her nose, though whether it was from being referred to as a girl or Jon's 'new' name, he didn't know. "She's good, really observant. Not at all like a normal septa." She narrowed her eyes at Lemore, who simply stared serenely back, and Jon laughed.

"I'm so glad you're safe, little sister! I'll have to tell Aegon to call off the people he's had searching for you."

"You had him looking for me, too?" He didn't think anyone else there would have noticed the vulnerable look in her eyes and he pulled her closer, wondering what she'd heard, what she'd learned, that made her think he'd suddenly lose interest in her wellbeing.

"Of course I did."

"You should have seen that fight," Rhaenys put in, finally joining the conversation.

Turning in Jon's arms, Arya looked her over, "Who are you?"

Jon glanced around them, then slowly set Arya down. "Why don't we talk on our way up?"

He pointed at the staircase and her eyes widened as she seemed to realize what a trek they had ahead of them. "...Good idea."

Lemore waved them on, staying behind to organize where the rest of her cargo was going.

"This is...Rhaenys, my sister."

Arya scowled. "What? Like through your mother's family?"

He hadn't thought about his uncle's lies in so long, being reminded of them, having to address them himself, wasn't pleasant. "No...Arya...your father is my uncle. I'm Aunt Lyanna's son."

"Aunt Lyanna? Does that mean...but..."

Rhaenys slipped back into the conversation, not nearly as emotionally invested in the lies as they were. "My father, the Prince Rhaegar, fell in love with your Aunt Lyanna after he found out she was a mystery knight at a tourney. My mother, Princess Elia, couldn't have children anymore and agreed he could take another wife as long as it was someone who wasn't interested in being Queen." She glanced between them, smiling softly. "From what I understand, Lady Lyanna was very much like you, Arya, she didn't want to simply be someone's wife. She wanted adventure and freedom."

With wide, interested eyes, Arya watched them. Jon hoped whatever was running through her head was good things.

"Someone kept the letters Lady Lyanna wrote from reaching her family when she went off with our father and...well...the events that would lead to the Rebellion happened from there," Jon continued. "My mother wed on Dragonstone with Princess Elia present, then was taken to a remote place in Dorne for her own safety."

"Father thought things would calm down," Rhaenys muttered, eyes darkening. "He hadn't known there'd be so many betrayals waiting for him..."

"Right, uh, so...Princess Elia was worried about Rhaenys and our brother, Aegon, and had them smuggled out of the keep and replaced with people who looked like them from afar. And...when the Sack happened..."

"Aegon and I were in Essos already and those poor children in our place were murdered by monsters."

"Wait, wait, you're saying-you're _that_ Rhaenys? And _Prince Aegon_ is alive, too?"

"King Aegon," Rhaenys corrected, smirking. "And, yes, of course. How else could Aemon have siblings?"

Arya looked back at him and he frowned. "Apparently that's my real name. Your father found my mother, like in his stories, but she wasn't dying from a random fever-she was dying from childbed fever. He took me and called me Jon, his bastard son, to hide me from the Lannisters and Robert."

She was worrying at her lip, looking between them, fear shining in her eyes and it hurt him to see that. "But...if you're their brother..."

"Arya...I can still be your brother, too, if you'd like me to be. Just because we're cousins by blood, it doesn't change how we were raised." He reached out, cautiously, ruffling her hair and watching for any negative reaction. "You _ran away to Essos_ to find me. That was a _very_ reckless little sister thing to do."

"Hey! I wasn't being reckless! I was perfectly fine!"

Lemore chuckled and Jon almost jumped out of his skin, not realizing she had caught up to them. "She was doing quite well for herself, I imagine most Westerosi noble women wouldn't have such an easy time of it."

Arya stood up a little taller, preening. "See?"

Sighing and conceding that he wouldn't be able to make her see reason on that point, Jon moved on. "I'll talk to Aegon about having you sent back to Winterfell, now that we've found you. The others must be frantic."

"What? No way! I just go here!"

"Aemon..." Rhaenys had a hesitant look he wasn't used to and with a sinking feeling he realized there would be politics at play.

He mentally cursed, realizing that they now had the Warden of the North's daughter in their clutches and his siblings were too focused on conquest to not keep her as a hostage.

Feeling like a traitor, he said, "I...suppose you could stay for a bit. It's safe here and there's a lot of exploring to be done."

Arya grinned, not realizing yet that this wasn't freedom, but a cage. "Great! We've got a lot of time to make up for! And you have to tell me _everything_."


	20. Chapter 20

They slept with the eggs in their beds. "Cradle eggs," Jon had called them, and Aegon had vague memories of this being a common thing his ancestors had done.

He'd never felt a dragon egg before, though the stories said the last few found hadn't felt anything like his did. It felt hot, alive. He sometimes thought he could feel it even across the room, tugging at something inside his mind.

Aemon said it was like and dislike what he felt from Ghost and Arya had agreed when he described his connection to his companion (she, too, apparently had a direwolf, one that she'd left in the wilds of the North before traveling to Essos, smart enough to know she'd draw too much attention with it).

But that was a Stark trait, this was a Targaryen one. Aegon wasn't surprised they were different.

(At times he wished they'd gotten to Aemon before he'd met the direwolf, the constant reminder of the family that had stolen their brother grating on Aegon's nerves when he'd had too-little of sleep and too-much of planning battles that would kill more people than he'd ever wanted to.)

Rhaenys agreed they should keep the eggs safe, she'd even constructed some odd slings for them to keep the eggs against their torsos always, though Aegon did not use his. His dignity was too important in front of his men.

Still, as the days went on, as Jon was off taking the Stormlands and Aemon, Jaime, and Arya fell into a routine of training until they collapsed in an attempt to distract themselves from their worries, nothing happened. Aegon had pushed for as much information about how their aunt had hatched her dragons as he could get, commanding Haldon to go through every book he could find on the subject.

Meanwhile, his sister just looked at him as she did when they were younger, like he was an adorable little fool. He wasn't sure what he was missing.

A fortnight before he was to leave for the final battle to take Storm's End and seal Jon's position as Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, something different finally happened.

The dream was not like he was used to. He was on Dragonstone, the castle looming in the background, but he was at peace. There was no battle, no enemies, no dread.

Aemon and Rhaenys were playing in the waves nearby and Aegon pushed himself out of the sand, going to join them. They splashed and dunked one another, running along the shoreline, but as they did the water grew hotter.

It didn't hurt, even as it boiled beneath their feet. Aegon clutched his siblings to him, trying to look for a sign of danger even though he wasn't feeling any fear. None of them were afraid.

The water splashed, waves growing higher, wildly, steam coming off in great plumes. It was red now, the red of blood, and thick with it. So many lives had been lost on and around Dragonstone, so many dragonseed had fallen there, had given their blood to the land and water.

And then three shapes emerged, dripping with molten liquid, shining in the sunlight that escaped through the clouds of steam. Aegon's breath caught as he locked eyes on the darkest of the shapes, its shadow encompassing all three of them and far beyond.

"See?" Rhaenys said, hugging both her brothers tightly. "I told you it would work out on its own."

Aegon work with a startled gasp, half slipping off the edge of his bed from his flailing.

A little chirp, curious and amused, was the answer to his near-fall. His head whipped up and there, in the ruin of the dragon egg he'd been holding so dear, was a tiny little dragon, a miniature of what he'd just seen.

He'd cleaned it and was watching it stumble along on his hearth when his bedroom door burst open, Rhaenys and Aemon stumbling inside. In both their arms were their own dragons, their own little matches to the dream-dragons.

"I told you it would work out on its own," Rhaenys repeated from the dream, smirking as it dawned on Aegon that it might have been something beyond a dream. "The magic here is stronger, stronger than it's been since before the Doom, it only needed a little push."


	21. Chapter 21

With the dragons now hatched, even Aegon's dignity didn't stop him from wearing the sling around Dragonstone to carry his. Jon laughed at him the first time he saw him in it, awkwardly trying to adjust it as he hadn't spent weeks with his egg in one, but eventually took pity on his big brother and helped.

Aegon's dragon was a shining black that almost matched his armor, with silver eyes and silver streaks across her wings. She was a silly little thing, seeming to play up her own baby-clumsiness when she realized how everyone would coo and pay attention to her when she stumbled or wavered in her attempt at flight. Aegon pretended to be mortified by the entire thing, but Jon could see he spoiled Nymerax more than any of them. Arya, though, was a close second (while claiming that Aegon couldn't be all that bad if he liked Nymeria so much).

In contrast, Rhaenys' Sundancer was a vain, temperamental creature of sunrise orange with red claws, crest, and belly and bright golden eyes, like the embodiment of the Nymeros-Martell's coat of arms.

"He's a bully just like you," Aegon had teased the first time Sundancer had put Nymerax in her place and the little orange dragon had turned straight to him and let out a puff of smoke (the closest any of them could manage to fire at that point) right in his face.

Jon wasn't sure if he'd lucked out with his calm and composed Sonaxes or if Ghost had rubbed off on him somehow. They certainly looked similar, though Sonaxes had blue eyes instead of red, and frost blue teeth, and tongue, and claws as well (and, Jon assumed, would probably have blue fire soon enough). When Sonaxes curled up against Ghost to sleep, Jon could barely tell where one began and the other ended.

It was a tragedy to him that they couldn't have somehow gotten the eggs sooner, hatched the dragons sooner. Aegon knew he couldn't risk a whelp in battle and watching him parting ways with Nymerax when he went to join his forces in the Stormlands had been heartbreaking. They were growing surprisingly fast, which Rhaenys dreamingly kept saying was because of all of the dormant magic of Dragonstone that had suddenly been released with their hatching, but they still weren't big enough for battle.

Jon took to keeping Nymerax with him at all times to make up for it, having promised his brother he would. Sonaxes wasn't even jealous, riding around on Ghost's back as Nymerax cuddled in Jon's dragon sling.

"If anyone's jealous," Arya had teased one day when Jon had commented on how well-mannered his dragon was, "it's you. Of Ghost. Because everyone knows if direwolves could ride dragons Sonaxes wouldn't look twice at you."

Rhaenys had burst out in laughter, not stopping until there were tears at the corners of her eyes. "I just! I imagined a direwolf on a dragons back and it was!"

Jon rolled his eyes at them and gave Nymerax another piece of roasted meat from his own plate. The little black dragon preened at his attention and nibbled on his fingers in a show of affection, earning herself another round of pets from him.

Sobering, Arya gave Nymerax a few scratches under her chin. "Do you think...do you think we could bring Nymeria here?"

She'd yet to ask to return to Winterfell and Jon worried about that. Did she know she was a hostage and that it would be useless to ask? Had she left on bad terms, somehow, and was worried about what would greet her on her return? He had yet to ask, too craven to bring it up.

"I don't see why not. You dream of her, don't you? Do you think you can get her to a port and into a boat?"

"I...could probably get her to a port. The boat part...is questionable. You know how she can get with people and she's even worse, now, being alone for so long."

"She knew you'd be reuniting with her, she can't be _that_ upset." Ghost let out a little huff and Jon frowned at him, wondering what _he_ knew of it. "We could have men go with clothing smelling of Ghost, so they'll seem more familiar."

Arya tapped her fingers on the table. "That could help. I can try to let her know, in the dreams, that people will be coming for her. I hope it's enough."

"Don't worry, little sister," Rhaenys assured her, ever so careful to be sweet to their prisoner, "we have people who are used to working with animals beyond just horses. We'll only send our best and most trustworthy." She patted her shoulder, ruffled Jon's hair, and then left the room to presumably start looking into that.

Looking across Nymerax at Arya, Jon asked, cautiously, "You...don't want to go with them for her?"

Arya leveled a stare at him. "Would I be allowed to?"

"I..."

"Jon." She stopped, taking a deep breath, and then moved to sit next to him, hugging him. "I left for _you_. I'm not going to go back and be forced to watch people _fighting against you_."

"Oh. I...thank you.

They sat in silence until Jon couldn't help himself. "I still can't believe you ran away to Essos just to find me," he muttered, "that was so dangerous! Anything could have happened to you!"

"Stop! You're not Rhaenys, you're the older sibling who _gave his little sister a sword_. You don't suddenly get to be all responsible now that you have a role model."

His eyes widened, and then he took in the sparkle in her eyes and realized she was teasing him. "You!" He dislodged Nymerax from where she was half-lying in his lap and grabbed Arya, fingers finding the worst of her ticklish spots.

"Stop! Stop it! Ahhh!"

"That sounds like you want me to be a _responsible_ sibling," he teased, continuing his attack.

"Nymerax, save me!"

The dragon glanced between them, gave what Jon was fairly certain was the dragon equivalent of a snicker, and plowed straight into them with amazing force for being the size of a large cat. Both Jon and Arya were knocked onto their sides and Nymerax was shoving her snout against them, seemingly searching for those ticklish spots.

Sonarax and Ghost watched on, silently judging all three of them.


	22. Chapter 22

The Stormlands were all but surrounded. The Reach had invaded from the west, the Dornish from the south, and Jon had brought their Essosi troops in from the east. It was the last group that Aegon met, Griffin's Roost the closest point they had captured to Storm's End.

"Renly Baratheon and most of the forces of the Stormlands are away sieging King's Landing," Jon stated as their war council began. "Stannis Baratheon was last heard from in the North, helping Eddard Stark retake Winterfell."

The map before them was a far cry from the Painted Table, but they made do with it as Jon and others moved the figurines that stood for the various armies around the map, adjusting them as they spoke.

"Some Reachmen are with Renly," Lord Tarly, there representing Mace Tyrell, put in. "As I believe the King discussed earlier, we are helping to keep King's Landing under siege and the Baratheon brothers at odds with each other."

Randyll Tarly, Aegon recalled, had been behind the only Targaryen victory during the Rebellion. He was thought of as a more than able commander and they should be thankful Mace decided to stay behind. His army was in four separate pieces, preparing the defense of his kingdom's own land and sea borders, with Renly Baratheon, and here, so no one could judge him for not being present.

"With the forces we have and the small amount of guards left at Storm's End, it should be very easy to take the Usurper's seat."

Strickland advised caution, reminding them that not all of their troops had made it from Essos, yet, but that was no surprise to Aegon. He always did hesitate when real battles were on the horizon. It was a surprise sometimes that the Golden Company has managed to maintain such a reputation after all this time.

"We will meet with the rest of my forces and the Dornish here," Tarly pointed to a point on the map around halfway to Storm's End, "and then march onward. The castle can take a siege, but that requires a measure of willpower that Lord Renly's men won't have."

"Once we have Storm's End, we'll head onward to King's Landing. The Reach forces there will take care of the problem of Renly Baratheon," Jon raised his eyebrows at Tarly, who nodded, "who will most likely bend the knee to King Aegon. We have operatives on the inside in the city and Keep who will open the gates for us and allow an attack."

Aegon leaned forward, fighting to keep his face calm as the excitement filled him at that idea. It would go smoothly, it had to, this was his destiny, he'd worked his whole life for this. And he'd promised Rhaenys and Aemon that they would all get to go home.

After the planning, Aegon joined Jon on the roof of the east tower and they stared out at the world beyond, towards Storm's End. His father had visited this place only once and the story was a familiar one-he had come to this keep and played his harp, and won over many a lady (and Jon).

"I failed your father," Jon muttered. "I won't fail you and your siblings."

"You have to stop thinking like that, Jon. You made the moral choice, it might not have been the best choice as a commander, but it was the choice many would have made."

He and Rhaenys had spoken of it many times, of what they would have done in that situation. In how they hoped they'd never have to know.

Aegon set his hand on Jon's arm, drawing his attention. He knew how often Jon's mind wandered to his father when Jon had these thoughts, knowing his eyes, his face, could help with the worst of the memories.

"None of us blame you for what happened. We can't know if the Usurper's forces would have stopped fighting because they'd lost him, if they'd continued and our family still fell we wouldn't have had you with us, to help us."

He could physically see Jon relaxing at that. "You'll be on the throne soon, Aegon. And you'll be the best king the Seven Kingdoms has ever known."

"I'll do my best, Jon," Aegon thought of all the times Rhaenys had said that, had comforted him that trying could be enough, "that's all anyone can do."


	23. Chapter 23

"They really shouldn't be growing this fast, should they?"

Jon stared up at the dragons flying above them, the slightest hint of unease filling him. He loved Sonaxes, their connection grew closer everyday, but she was still a dragon. She didn't think, didn't feel, as a human did and while Ghost was smart for an animal, Sonaxes sometimes seemed to have a very human intelligence to go with her very predatory emotions.

It didn't help that Aegon had been unable to quickly communicate with them for weeks, now. He understood their brother was at war, that they often couldn't risk ravens, but neither he nor Rhaenys had any idea if Aegon's bond with Nymerax was growing at the same rate theirs were. If Jon felt like he might not be able to keep Sonaxes in line, what would a weaker bond be able to accomplish?

"No, I don't think so. The reports from our people about Daenerys' dragons had them growing at much slower rates."

He looked over at his sister, her tone, and her expression, made it clear she knew something she wasn't telling him. He was getting very good at deciphering that, since it was a very common occurrence.

"Rhae..."

She seemed to consider it for a moment, then walked over to one of the large stones along the beach and made herself comfortable. Patting the surface near her, she waited for him to sit down beside her before speaking.

"Do you remember the dream we had of them? When they hatched?"

Jon shuddered, nodding. He couldn't forget it and was glad he hadn't experienced its like again.

"This land...this entire island and the waters around it, has seen so much death, Aems. So many Valyrians, dragonseeds, have died here. And...many of them did it for us, for our family. An entire war happened basically..."

"...For me. Because father wanted his third head of the dragon."

Rhaenys wrapped her arm around him, pulling him closer. "It's _not_ your fault. Father could have gone about it in so many better ways. And even then, if our grandfather hadn't done what he had, no war would have happened. But...it did. And people died for you, for us. Thousands upon thousands of lives sacrificed. Even...even our father himself, bleeding out in the waters of the Trident, which flows into the Bay of Crabs, into the Narrow Sea..."

"Into these waters." Jon looked out at the sea beyond them, watching the waves crashing against the sand, wondering how he'd ever be able to look at the water and not think of that. "But that's true for many things, isn't it? Why these eggs? Why now? Just because of the Rebellion?"

"Because this was when we needed it. Dragonstone was built with Valyrian magic, it's lost to us now, but the magic within the castle, the island, remains. How many dragons lived and died here? Aegon V tried at Summerhaul, and that was no good place for it. If he had tried here, if his need was as great as he believed...mayhaps our family would have already had dragons."

If that had been the case, the Rebellion would have surely never happened. Though...Jon shuddered to think what someone like Aerys would have done with a dragon at his beck and call. Even their ancestors who history didn't remember as mad had caused massive amounts of death and destruction with theirs.

Sonaxes, perhaps sensing his unease, alighted beside him. Her body, now as big as a horse's, was still a little unwieldy for her, and she sprayed up sand in her attempts at grace, the light color of it still standing out against her white scales.

Her head pushed against him and he sighed, repositioning himself so it could rest on his lap. In the sky, Sundancer seemed to be playing a game of chase against his brother.

"So our blood, our family's blood, and...the blood of their vassals. The Rebellion and so much of its purpose being directed towards our father and my mother. And...Dragonstone itself." He ticked off his fingers as he listed the factors.

"And you."

He winced. "I thought you said it wasn't about me?"

"The _war_ wasn't about you. But yours is the song of ice and fire, Aemon. Your the first child of a Targaryen and a Stark, of the magic of Old Valyria and the Children of the Forest. That's important."

"I don't want to be important," he sighed. "I just want...I want Aegon to have his throne and a massive amount of sons and for everyone to forget me."

Her grimace spoke of other secrets he didn't yet know, but she stayed quiet and he decided he didn't really want anymore to think about just yet.

"The magic that hatched them is why they're growing so quickly, as well?"

"In a perfect life, we would have hatched them here as children, growing up here as so many of our family did."

"So, what, they're growing this quickly because they're catching up to where they'd be?" He looked skeptically down at Sonaxes, but his dragon offered no greater insight.

Rhaenys frowned, her eyes wandering from him back up to the dragons above them. "I don't know if that's why. I hope it is."

"Why?"

"Because the alternative is...they're growing this fast because we're going to _need_ them."

Jon could think of many ways that the dragons would be useful, especially with a war being waged on the mainland, but _needing_ them was another matter. Their brother was doing fine without a dragon-what sort of threat would _require_ one?

"Rhae...you've...is there something in the future that...that we should know about?"

She turned sad eyes on him, near-black like his own, but in their own way. Rhaenys was only born a few years before him, but she always seemed so much older. The weight of everything they'd lost weighed down on her, who remembered their father and her mother, the worst. But her dreams, too, took their toll. For every happy dream, Jon thought there must be twice as many horrible ones.

"It's not time yet to worry about that, Aems. There's too much to do, first."

"But you will tell me?"

"Oh, don't worry." Her smile wasn't the least bit reassuring, though her hug was. "When the time comes, you'll know."


	24. Chapter 24

Taking King's Landing was no true accomplishment. Varys' people opened the gates to them and the citizens...they were starving, weak. They looked like some of the worst treated slaves Aegon could remember seeing in Essos. And, under the weight of their suffering, they were welcoming the return of the Targaryens, suddenly remembering that even Aerys had kept them fed and that, as far as they knew, he'd mostly only caused issues for the highborns.

The supplies from the Reach were handed out at stations setup throughout the city and the main force of Aegon's troops easily settled around the Red Keep for an actual siege.

That took longer.

Servants trickled out first, having gotten wind of the prosperity the rest of the city was experiencing and having an easier time of slipping away. Eventually some of the nobility risked the Mad Queen's ire, as well. Varys' little birds worked to find anyone desperate to leave and showed them routes out of the Keep. For those who were to be allies there was one route, for those who intended no such thing, there was another-right into the arms of the Dornish forces keeping Aegon's hostages in check.

It took nearly a moon of waiting before the forces inside were weak enough that everyone agreed it was time to send in teams to clear them out. They were mostly men of the Golden Company, who were no strangers to sabotage and sneaking, though others who had displayed needed skillsets joined them.

Aegon was not supposed to go. Too dangerous, too many unknown factors. A king could not take foolish risks.

But Aegon was not truly King, not yet, not when he was unordained and lacked the throne, and so he slipped in with a group leaving late into the night when all his advisors assumed he was resting.

He stayed towards the back, a heavy cloak hiding his features. Which he was thankful for, as the knowledge he was finally, finally in the Red Keep was nearly overwhelming. He wished his siblings were there to share in the feeling, but knew they would be, soon.

They found Cersei clutching the dead, rotting body of one of her children. Which one, Aegon did not know, for all he could see was a small body and a mop of ragged blonde hair. They'd called her the Mad Queen before, but none had realized just how bad she had gotten.

She ranted as she saw them, calling on Jaime to protect her, claiming that her child was sleeping and they would disturb them. When she caught a glimpse of Aegon under his hood, she did not even realize who he was or what it meant that he was there-she thought he was his father, who she had apparently cared for (or at least obsessed over) far more than he had realized.

Once they'd managed to get her away from the corpse, it was easy enough to lock her into chains and have her dragged away.

It was Aegon who opened the main gates to his forces, smirking at a glowering Jon.

"Oh, don't give me that look. We've done it. We're finally home."


	25. Chapter 25

They sailed into King's Landing to a cheering crowd. Rhaenys could barely conceal her excitement, but somehow she managed to keep a steady place, arm locked in Aemon's (and it was truly unfair that his Northern stoicism was so useful in these situations, because she knew he was nearly as nervous).

The formalities were observed with Jon, as Hand of the King, and then they finally made their way to the Red Keep.

Her memories of this place were vague, at best. Glimpses here and there of rooms, of people, of her father's singing and her mother's hugs. She had to keep her eyes wide as they entered the throne room to keep any tears from falling.

Aegon looked perfect on the Iron Throne, he had truly been born to sit there. She wished she could lock this moment away, perfectly, in her memory, as they were acknowledged as Prince of Dragonstone and Princess of Summerhaul by _King Aegon VI of House Targaryen_.

If was a relief when they were finally together in private, the formal greeting over, and she could pull her brothers into a firm embrace, half sobbing and half laughing as the emotions overwhelmed her.

"Rhae," Aegon's voice was soft with understanding and when their eyes met, she could see tears starting to fall out of his, too.

"We're finally home, Egg. We finally did it."

She pulled Aemon back against them, knowing he sometimes felt awkward when they mentioned their long journey to this point but not letting him run away this time.

"When is your coronation?"

"In a sennight. You and most of the remaining lords of the Crownlands arrived first, of course, there are still some from Dorne and the Reach that we're waiting on."

"No word from the other kingdoms?" Aemon sounded pained.

"You have brought Ser Jaime, haven't you?" Aegon continued after their nods, "I'll be releasing him from his oaths and making him Lord of Casterly Rock. I expect the Westerlands to fall into place behind him, as we have Tywin in the Black Cells and will be executing him soon enough for his crimes during the Usurper's War. We have taken most of the Stormlands and those lords who surrendered have already bent the knee. Whether lords from any of the other kingdoms appear...well, ravens have been sent to them all."

Rhaenys wrapped her arm around Aemon's waist, resting her head against his with a sigh. "It's probably very complicated for the North right now, Aems. A Baratheon is still there, probably threatening anyone who wishes to bend the knee to their rightful king."

Aegon nodded. "Exactly. Once things are settled here, I plan to turn our attentions to the North and see what we can do about that situation. Hopefully we can work out a peaceable enough agreement with the Starks."

Rhaenys met Aegon's eyes and knew he was also hoping that they would fight. For all they'd done to their family, to Aemon, they deserved some punishment. But if they meekly bent the knee as soon as they could, there was little that Aegon would be able to do to them without upsetting their little brother.

"And until then," Aegon pulled back a bit, motioning around them. "I've had rooms set up for both of you near mine in the Holdfast, I think you'll like them. Rhaenys, I assume you'll take control of the coronation preparations?"

She nodded, having already been mentally preparing them for months. Until Aegon married, Rhaenys would have the duties of a Queen as the King's sister.

"And Aemon, I would like you to take Ser Jaime and spar in the training yards with some of our Kingsguard candidates. I trust the two of you to thoroughly vet their skills and not be quite as obnoxious as Duck." The three of them laughed, though the noise was soft, their emotions still too high.

"I'll be holed up with Jon most days trying to get the kingdom sorted out. I'd like both of you to attend the Small Council meetings, for all it's a very, very small council at the moment."

They nodded in unison to that.

Aegon straightened, wiping the tear tracks from his cheeks and smiling again. "Until then, I've managed to wrangle some free time. I think we should show Nymerax and his siblings around the Dragonpit!"

Rolling her eyes, Rhaenys wiped off her own cheeks and offered an arm to Aegon, then her other to Aemon, and dragged them out of the room. Guards immediately fell into step behind them, a reminder that from now on they'd have even less freedom than they had before, but she didn't let it upset her.

This was what their lives _should_ have been. She'd appreciate every moment of it.


	26. Chapter 26

As the days went on and more and more lords and ladies flowed into King's Landing, Jon found himself with not enough tasks to distract him from the sudden attention of the highborns. Aegon had made it very clear that he considered Jon his trueborn brother and that everyone was to treat him as a prince and Aegon's current heir. But Jon couldn't have predicted just how much that would affect his social standing.

Suddenly he was no longer just the shameful bastard relegated to the back of the hall, _he_ was the one that people wanted to talk to (when Aegon wasn't around). And, just like his brother, he was unbetrothed and therefore fair game for the various ladies of court who were yet unwed.

It wasn't five days before he gave up even trying to dissuade the ladies and instead started to hide.

Aegon would allow him into his meetings, but they were normally boring and rarely important as Aegon tried to settle solve minor problems and often pointless disputes caused by the wars.

So instead Jon found himself with Rhaenys more often than not. Her work of planning the coronation and refurbishing the Red Keep was not necessarily more interesting, but she did often need an extra set of hands to help, even with a horde of servants. Jon held bolts of fabric, assisted in hanging drapery, and even scrubbed paint off of a few walls to reveal the Targaryen sigils that had just been painted over and not removed.

It was good, tiring work when she had it and helped him sleep better in the strange bed in a strange place at night. For the Red Keep lacked the aura of home that Dragonstone had for him and instead he spent long hours tossing and turning, with nightmares filled with men who looked like his uncle burning in the throne room before a laughing man who looked too much like Aegon.

He refused to tell either of his siblings about that.

Jon did, though, eventually tell Rhaenys what had driven him to her and instead of being reprimanded for not being social enough, she instead just looked thoughtful.

"The only way to get rid of them permanently, Aemon, is if you marry someone."

He grimaced. "I don't want to marry a random lady, Rhae. I know I'll probably have to, to help Aegon, but it's just so..." He wasn't sure how to put into words how he knew they wanted him solely for his name and blood, how they mostly still thought of him as a bastard who wouldn't be worth their time if not for his claim to the throne.

Rhaenys set down the notes she'd been going over and pulled him to the coach, ordering a servant to bring them drinks and cakes. "Not a single one of them seemed like you could stand them as a wife? There's no lady you know from the North who you wouldn't mind marrying?"

He thought of the few Northern ladies who'd bothered to speak with him (and realized he had to put Arya into that category with a shudder) and shook his head. "No, there's no one, yet. Besides, should I even get married before Aegon? He's the one who needs the best match, right?"

She set a cake on a plate and passed it to him, staring off into the distance. "Why do you mind these ladies so much? You like being around me."

"But you're my sister, of course I like you."

"Like you liked Sansa?"

Scowling, Jon took the moment to bite into the cake, savoring the gooey berry center. "Alright, fine, it's not just that you're my sister. It's that you're...you. You're kind, and honest, and so smart." He wished he hadn't left Ghost back on Dragonstone, that he was there for Jon to sink his fingers into his fur and distract himself. "You're...special."

Rhaenys smiled at him and his heart warmed at the way it so obviously reached her eyes. "You're special to me, too, Aems."

She leaned closer, then she abruptly pulled back and shook her head, giving a soft laugh, leaving Jon clueless as to what just happened. "I've got an idea, but I'll have to run it by Aegon, first, and so it will have to wait until after all the stress of his coronation is over with. Think you can handle a few more days of the vultures?"

Jon nodded in relief. "If it's just a few more days, I can take it. Especially since I can just keep hiding out with you."

That brought the bright smile back to her face for the rest of the day.


	27. Chapter 27

Aegon had not expected the dragons to grow so quickly. He'd known, from the carefully coded messages Rhaenys sent, that they were growing faster than expected, but as he stared up as his (previously tiny) Nymerax he realized she had been holding back.

"Are you sure about this? I don't think you very first flight should be for-"

"I'm sure. There's not enough time to practice and what will make a better impression than this? What will convince them I am their rightful king more than this?"

Rhaenys and Aemon exchanged looks, but Rhaenys didn't try again to discourage him and Aemon, well, he looked like he was barely containing himself from going over to his dragon and following.

Taking a deep breath, Aegon started his climb. "You two better hurry down to the Sept, you won't want to miss this."

They left in a flurry of muttering. And suddenly it was just he and Nymerax (and Sonaxes and Sundancer watching from their dens).

"I know I haven't been around and I'm sorry for that. But that's going to change," he muttered as he climbed, situating himself between the spikes along Nymerax's neck. "And this is the first step towards that. If we can fly together for things like this, then we can fly together any other time I have to travel."

He could feel Nymerax perk up at that, through the bond that Aemon had talked him through feeling more fully. It didn't take much urging after that.

There was a jolt and then, suddenly, Aegon was holding on for dear life as the world dropped out below them. It should have been terrifying, but instead it was just exhilarating. He didn't know where his excitement at _flying_ ended and Nymerax's at finally _flying with her rider_ began and it didn't matter. Nothing mattered for a few minutes but them.

But Aegon wasn't doing this just to play, they had a duty. Today was the day he'd been waiting for all his life.

They banked around the city, circling once, twice, then finally landing in the square before the Sept of Baelor, kept clear just for this. He took a moment while everyone was busy staring at Nymerax's beauty to collect himself, then carefully climbed down her wing with as much grace as he could muster.

Not that anyone would have even cared at that point if he fell flat on his face, he thought, the crowd's awe pouring off of them in waves.

It only took a quick call and a mental nudge to get Nymerax to head back to the Dragonpit and then his Kingsguard was behind him and Aegon was striding up the steps to the entrance, his red cape flaring out behind him.

The nobles who had been waiting for his arrival hurried in to get into position before him, as did the High Septon, leaving just Aemon and Rhaenys there to greet him before the door.

"That was magnificent," she praised, kissing his cheek.

"You look every inch a king," Aemon assured him, clasping his shoulder.

He thanked them and motioned them ahead of him. When they were settled on either side of the High Septon, it was his turn.

Walking through the gap between the nobility, ignoring their gazes on him was difficult. So many of them had moved against his family at some point, but now they were reminded of the true power of the blood of the dragon. Now, he didn't have to worry so much about making enough concessions or flattering some lord enough.

This must be how his ancestor felt, when Aegon I conquered six of the seven kingdoms. Free, powerful. Righteous.

He knelt before the High Septon, perhaps the last time in his life he'd ever need kneel to anyone, and drifted through the ceremony with contentment. When the Conqueror's crown-a gift from his Uncle Doran-was placed on his head and the cheer went up around the room for just a moment he forgot all the wars yet to come and just let himself be happy.

Aegon VI, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm. Finally.


	28. Chapter 28

"Marry...Rhaenys..."

The words didn't seem to connect in Jon's brain, no matter how he tried to work what Aegon had said out, nothing seemed to make sense.

He wanted to say, "but she's my sister," but he knew that didn't matter. Their grandparents and great-grandparents were siblings, too, and full ones at that. He couldn't even work up the ability to be disgusted. Had he left behind all that was Stark in him when he had Ghost stay with Arya on Dragonstone?

Rhaenys was starting to look hurt, as the silence stretched on, and he finally forced himself to respond to Aegon's words.

"Is that wise? We need alliances. And surely we shouldn't marry before you."

Aegon shrugged, looking far too casual about the whole thing. There was something in this for him, though Jon couldn't think of what it could be.

"No, I think it would be a good thing. It would alleviate any remaining tensions between Dorne and the North, surely, to see how thoroughly we've accepted you and to tie you to our line."

Frowning, Jon looked over at their sister again. "And you? You actually want this?"

Out of the corner of his eyes Jon could see Aegon smirk and turn his attention to Rhaenys as well. "Yes, Rhaenys, you want this, don't you?"

Rhaenys shot Aegon a quick glare before turning her attention fully to Jon. "I do. I think it's the best either of us can hope for, Jon. We know each other, we already love each other."

"I do love you, Rhae, but as my _sister_."

"And you can love me as more, if you give it a chance."

Jon glanced between his siblings again, frowning. "Wait...Rhaenys, did _you_ come up with this?" It would explain Aegon's weird attitude.

That he caught on seemed to throw her and for maybe the first time he could remember, Rhaenys looked flustered. "Yes," she finally admitted. "I've been thinking about it for awhile, and the more time passes the more I'm sure it's our best option. But I, we, want you to agree."

Aegon nodded. "Yes. You're not just my property to sell off, Aemon Targaryen, you're my little brother, and I'm not going to _force_ you to marry someone if you don't want to."

"...Can I have time to think about it?"

Rhaenys gave a tight smile and a nod, and Aegon patted him on the shoulder and easily agreed. Jon took his leave as soon as he could, making his way down to the Dragonpit to soak up the comfort Sonaxes' presence always gave him. He had so much to think about and knew, despite their agreement, that his siblings wouldn't wait forever for his decision.


	29. Chapter 29

The room was silent as everyone waited for Aegon to finish reviewing the documents before him. Rhaenys resisted the urge to hurry him along, knowing it was more important than ever to keep up appearances. Everyone outside of their closest advisors would be looking for weaknesses in Aegon, now, and being too accommodating to his sister would be considered one.

Finally, he set the papers down and looked around the room. Rhaenys and Aemon were with him, of course, and Jon. They'd brought Jaime in for this, despite how Uncle Oberyn liked to glare at him and make vaguely threatening gestures at him. Mace Tyrell, who had come for the coronation but they hadn't met before that was there, along with some other minor lords of Dorne and the Reach who were influential enough, such as Lord Yronwood and Lord Tarly.

The Lords of the Crownlands, who had to travel the least far of course, had the most representation even if they didn't count Aemon as Prince of Dragonstone among them. Lord Celtigar, the regent of the young Lord Velaryon, Lord Rosby, Lord Sunglass...the survivors of Stannis Baratheon's follies and religious fanaticism. The ones who had remained with the Baratheon forces after their ruined attempt to take King's Landing had quickly found ways to remove themselves once Aegon's presence became known. And for a meeting such as this, Rhaenys had suggested Aegon have as many of them as he could stand present, to show that they had an edge over Baratheon.

"A handful of lords from the Vale and Riverlands attended my coronation and bent the knee," Aegon announced, going over the details most would already know. "However, we have had no word from the Arryns or Tullys." His eyes flickered over to Aemon. "We have also had no representatives from the North, where it is believed the Usurper Stannis Baratheon has a foothold."

"I could fly to Winterfell," Aemon offered, with a confidence he probably didn't feel, "parley with my uncle."

Rhaenys' watched Aegon's hands twitch, a sure sign of how much that idea displeased him in his carefully constructed Kingly demeanor. "No, I won't risk you being that far into their territory. I would have you and your cousin send ravens requesting a meeting outside of Moat Cailin."

She glanced around the room, trying to gauge people's reactions to the revelation they had a Stark hostage. She thought Arya would go along with writing a letter, she didn't know or care about Stannis Baratheon and loved Aemon dearly, after all.

Aemon had a look on his face that Rhaenys knew meant he wished to speak more, but thankfully their efforts at teaching him how to interact with Aegon in public had paid off and he accepted his king's words. He'd have plenty of time to protest in private, after the meeting.

"The North is our main concern, because of the Usurper King. Once we have that settled, we will turn our attentions elsewhere. On the way to Moat Cailin, our forces will assist in the Riverlands against the outlaws and raiders they've been dealing with, as well as assisting with any other issues they can. Edmure Tully is now Lord of Riverrun and, from reports, extremely lax in his duties to his bannermen and smallfolk."

Aegon sauntered around the large map table that had been set in the center of the room, moving a few dragon-shaped figures along the Kingsroad.

"The Riverlands will then, of course, be our second priority, after the North. They offer very little defenses and border too many of the other kingdoms to leave unaccounted for. The Vale shall be our last priority. The Knights of the Vale may be a force to reckon with, but as we get into winter the Vale becomes more treacherous to navigate...meaning that they will be exceptionally vulnerable to our dragons."

He gave a charming smile to offset the terror of his words as they sunk in for the audience and Rhaenys couldn't help but offer a little nod of approval. What exactly their dragons meant kept being overlooked by many and reminding them exactly how their ancestors conquered Westeros would most likely never get old.

"With any luck, the remaining Vale lords will bend their knees quickly and we can all settle in to prepare for the long winter the maesters are predicting. We'd like as little fighting as possible as we are simply reclaiming our kingdoms," Rhaenys added and the lords murmured to each other in agreement.

Aegon nodded. "Now that we have that dark business out of the way, I have two other announcements I wish to make. Firstly, I will be _officially_ adding to my Kingsguard after having many in trial positions.

"Alongside Ser Rolly Duckfield, who has served my house loyally in our temporary exile, I will be appointing Ser Loras Tyrell, son of Lord Mace Tyrell," he motioned to Mace and there was a smattering of applause, no one surprised by the appointment, "Ser Jaremy Rykker, son of Lord Renfred Rykker, Ser Daemon Sand, son of Ser Ryon Allyrion, and Ser Willman Rivers, cousin to Lord Raymun Darry."

None of the other fathers or cousins had made the meeting, for one reason or another, but they were largely known as loyalists, which helped ease Rhaenys' worries about the whole thing. And Jaime and Aemon had sparred against them in a variety of ways, from the stories she'd heard, even dragging Uncle Oberyn into the fights at one point. If those men still wanted to be Kingsguard after dealing with those three all at once, they were welcome to the positions.

"There are still two spots in the Kingsguard remaining, which we will hopefully fill with honorable, talented young men in the near future." Aegon glanced around the room, reminding those whose families had not received such honor that there was still that possibility.

"Now, onto my second announcement." Rhaenys moved closer to his side, Aemon following, clearly nervous as he realized what it might be. "As you all know, the future of House Targaryen has seemed...bleak...in recent years. Many of you only knew of my aunt and uncle and thought our House near-extinction. But not only were three more of us alive, but we have also brought dragons back to Westeros for the first time in over a century. Because of that, it is of the utmost importance that we preserve the practice of concentrating our blood."

She watched as the lords, at varying speeds, realized what Aegon was saying. Many with daughters around his age began to look displeased.

Aegon continued before any of them could speak up. "Therefore, I am announcing the betrothal of the Princess Rhaenys to Prince Aemon. The date of the wedding dependent on how our meeting with the North goes."

Rhaenys could amuse herself with watching the reactions around the room, but she was more concerned with Aemon. She gripped his hand, drawing his attention to her, and gave a sweet smile, wanting him to know just how pleased she was that he had accepted. For a few days she'd been almost sure he wouldn't, had been scolded by Arianne for her dark mood, but then he'd wandered into her solar to confirm it was what she truly wanted and he'd consented.

She'd told him, then, that it didn't matter what anyone else thought. Aegon was King and his will was law. And if anyone tried to insult them, they'd have actual dragons to deal with. She wanted to marry a man that she could love and feel safe with and Aegon had made it clear long ago he had no interest in her.

Aemon had relented, speaking separately to Aegon about it in a conversation Rhaenys wished she could have spied on. And his only request was that they attempt to have his mother's family attend the wedding.

"And have you come to a decision on your own betrothal, your grace?" Mace asked, not surprising anyone in the room.

Shaking his head, Aegon circled back around to stare at the map. "No, my lord. I believe such a decision will have to wait, I have too much on my mind currently and have been unable to meet with any prospective Queens as I would like to."

Rhaenys stifled a laugh. All of the lords were relieved to know that the biggest catch was still available to them and they still ate up all of the excuses Aegon gave.

"There will be a feast tonight, where we announce our betrothal," Rhaenys stated, drawing the attention back to herself and Aemon. "We thank you all for attending our meeting and would remind you that the Small Council appointments are being decided next."

She gave her sweetest smile and they all fell over themselves to congratulate her before they filed out of the room.

"This is exhausting," Aegon muttered, shooting a glare at Aemon when he laughed. "Don't look lie that, all _you_ have to do is hold your tongue."

"Which you have been doing an admirable job of," Rhaenys assured Aemon, dropping a kiss on his cheek. "As are you, Aegon, you appear a true king. When they look at you, they must all see father."

That was Jon's cue to begin speaking along those lines, praising Aegon in the way he most liked to be praised. And it gave Rhaenys a chance to tug Aemon out of the room and back towards the Holdfast.

"This is the weirdest thing," Aemon muttered as they walked arm in arm down the hallway, alone but for their guards. "I never thought I'd marry, let alone have a feast celebrating the announcement of it."

She laughed. "How many years do you think it will be, until you grow used to being a prince?"

He smiled, ducking his head. "My whole life, maybe?"

"I hope not! You've been so good at adjusting to everything else!"

"Rhae..." He looked over at her, face serious again. "I'm glad it's you."

Her heart felt a little lighter. "Me, too, Aems."


	30. Chapter 30

Jon checked the straps of Sonaxes' saddle, and the bags connected to it, once more. This was his first long trip by dragon and considering what he might be flying towards...his nerves were at an all time high.

It didn't help that the riding leathers he'd been put in, which somehow managed to be practical and also one of the fanciest things he owned outside of formal attire, announced to anyone even glancing at him what he was.

Black and red, their personal three headed dragon across his chest. A red cape trailing after him. He'd be meeting the man who raised him to be a Stark bastard as a Targaryen prince.

"Stop fretting, Aems, and get on Sona already. We have a tight schedule!" Rhaenys called to him, drawing him out of his thoughts.

She was dressed in a nearly matching outfit and Jon couldn't help but notice how good it looked on her-now that they were to be married, he'd found himself considering her more as a woman than just a sister.

Her dragon and her both were clearly anxious to take off, Sundancer standing and shifting around as they waited.

"We'll be flying all day, isn't that reason enough to want to appreciate every moment before getting on?"

Rhaenys scoffed, giving Sundancer a quick pat, then walking over to him. "It's alright to be nervous. It's alright to be scared. What you'll be facing...I don't know what I'd do, in your situation."

He grimaced. "I grew up hearing nothing good about Targaryens. I know exactly what they'll think of me."

"No, you grew up hearing opinions based on _lies_. Now that the truth is out in the open, any reasonable Northman will realize they were wrong. The crown prince is half Stark, that will matter to them."

"...Unless it doesn't. Unless nothing they do will help them see past their prejudices."

She wrapped her arms around him, giving a firm squeeze. "Then they're fools who aren't worth your consideration." He hugged back, soaking up that last bit of comfort because he knew he'd have to be nothing but professional once they landed.

"Thanks, Rhae." They parted and went back to their dragons, both eagerly lowering their wings for their riders.

The flight from King's Landing to Moat Cailin was breathtaking. They stayed lower than they had to, wanting to catch sight of as much of their land as they could. At times they tried to near each other, pointing and shouting out names of landmarks they thought they saw, laughing at how ineffective it was with the wind in their ears.

The only point they sobered was as they passed above the Trident. Rhaenys had told him what little she remembered of their father and Uncle Oberyn and Connington even more. He'd started to really feel connected to him, especially being back in Westeros, and knowing he'd died down there, before Aemon was even born, was still a painful thought.

It was a few hours more before they spotted the large masses of their army in the Neck, stationed outside Moat Cailin in support of them. Aegon was not willing to trust in Northern honor (Jon wasn't entirely sure his older brother believed him when he spoke of such things) and had sent a sizeable force just in case anyone tried anything.

"My heir and my sister, the future of our House, so close to their territory? I'd be a fool not to make a show of force to keep those traitors from pulling anything." Aegon had pointed out, forcing Jon to concede.

They made a show of sweeping over the fortress, studying the building, its defenses, and just how many forces were on the Northern side. And showing them all that the rumors of their dragons were true.

They landed sore from the long ride and barely able to walk straight. Only trusted servants and guards were there, though, including Duck who Aegon had also insisted on going along with them, and they were quickly ushered to tents with warm bathes and salves.

Jon couldn't remember the last time he'd slept so soundly, too exhausted from the ride to brood on what waited for him in the morning.


	31. Chapter 31

Aegon leaned back in his chair, glancing around the Small Council chambers. "My lords."

They greeted him and then Jon shuffled the papers in front of him and began to speak of rationing for winter, of the threats they knew of or the ones they suspected, and, finally, of the troops setting up outside of Moat Cailin and his siblings' arrival.

"They are meeting with Lord Stark and his bannermen as we speak, we expect another raven by the end of the day."

Nodding, Aegon glanced to the current Grand Maester, who was not a maester at all, as far as he was aware. He'd been serving Cersei Lannister, which had originally been reason enough to relieve him of his duty, until Uncle Oberyn had admitted that he'd been serving _him_. And had hinted that Cersei's increasing madness may not have been entirely natural. He had known Oberyn most of his life and while he had many questionable associates, at this point in his reign such things were still needed.

"Qyburn, I wish to be informed as soon as those ravens arrive. Even if I am asleep."

He nodded, understanding, and Aegon knew he didn't have to worry about any false propriety keeping his orders from being followed.

"I would also like to ask after the High Septon? It appears that there is none?"

Glancing around the room, Aegon saw various states of neutality and smugness on his adviser's faces.

Sighing, he leaned back again. "Uncle?"

"Oh, it wasn't me." Qyburn also gave an innocent look, as did Willas Tyrell, who was thankfully sitting in for his father at the council.

"My king, my little birds...may have taken care of the issue. In the...chaos of the siege," Varys simpered and if it was something a king was allowed, Aegon would have rolled his eyes. "He would have continued to be an issue for your rule, but his little flock believes that Cersei is to blame for his unfortunate fall."

Aegon nodded at him, then turned his attention to Willas again. "My lord, could you contact your grandfather, Lord Hightower, and see if he has recommendations for a replacement High Septon before we approach the Faith?" He wasn't going to have his siblings married by just any septon (or, gods' forbid, in front of a tree like Aemon had hinted at).

"Of course, your grace. I'll send a raven as soon as we adjourn."

"In that case, I believe this meeting is over."

"Oh, my king, please, just one more matter," Lord Celtigar hurried to say.

Aegon already knew what this would be about, but he graciously smiled. "Yes, my lord?"

"I was hoping we might discuss the matter of your betrothal. If you have narrowed down your choices at all?"

Uncle Oberyn let out a soft noise that Aegon was sure was hiding a laugh and Varys' eyes danced with amusement. "My lord, I will not be making _any_ choice on such a thing until the realm is fully united under my rule. Now, if you'll excuse me, it does not do to keep a dragon waiting and I promised mine a ride."

The reminder of the fact he was a dragonrider stopped the lord from protesting more and the meeting broke apart, everyone going back to their duties. Ser Daemon, the Kingsguard currently assigned to him, followed Aegon out.

"Are we really going to see your dragon, my king?"

Aegon smirked, looking over his shoulder at the knight. "Of course, ser. You haven't met Nymerax, yet, have you? I'm _sure_ she'll like you." His tone made it clear that he thought she would do anything but and Daemon cringed.

"King Aegon!" The new voice was accompanied by Arya Stark running out of a side hall, grinning at him. "Are you going to visit Nym? Can I come along?"

He chuckled and shot Daemon another look. "Of course, how could I deny someone as brave as you?"

Arya laughed. "I'm hardly brave, Nymerax is a sweetheart."

Aegon held his arm out to her and she took it, using it as an excuse to speak quietly with him. Ser Daemon most likely couldn't hear and wasn't supposed to share his King's secrets, regardless, but Arya had a healthy dose of paranoia that being around them had only made more pronounced.

"Any news of Jon and Rhae?"

"They've landed at the camp and should be in meetings today."

Biting her lip, Arya looked off to the side for a few moments, Aegon almost able to feel her thinking. "It will be okay. It _has_ to be. Father loves Jon, even if he...he maybe didn't always show it well. And I support you, too. You're _so_ much better than the other choices, anyway!"

If nothing else, Arya was good at lifting Aegon's mood. "I should make sure that the land knows of Arya Stark's stunning endorsement of my reign."

"Hey!"

She looked for a moment like she might kick him, the way she did sometimes to Aemon, but remembered he was the king. Aegon missed, sometimes, just being a boy on a boat with his sister and father. He'd learned the truth early on, but even the first few years after that he imagined his life was fairly normal. Now nothing about it would ever be normal again.

"Where's Ghost?" he asked, knowing his attempt to change the subject would be noted.

Rolling her eyes, Arya shrugged. "The godswood, probably. Or sulking in Jon's room because he went off with his dragon and left him here."

"Poor Ghost. I know how he feels. Aems and Rhae are getting to fly all over Westeros and I'm stuck here with boring meetings."

"Oh, woe is you, it's so awful, being king," Arya mocked, laughing along with him at her words.

Even Ser Daemon let out a soft, amused noise before he could stop himself, which set Arya off even more.

This wasn't so bad, Aegon decided, as more guards fell in step behind them in case of attacks as they went out towards the Dragonpit. When Aemon and Rhaenys got back, life would be nearly perfect.


	32. Chapter 32

The day after their arrival, the meeting with Lord Stark and the Northern lords he'd brought with him finally took place. Their people had set out a tent on the southern side of the fortress, large and imposing, but not without comforts. Their troops had even pulled back to give the illusion that they were not right there, waiting for any misstep.

They let the Northern representatives enter first and inspect the tent, take a bite of bread and salt, look over the long tables, the chairs for all of them, and all the other features. After Rhaenys was satisfied the lords were be settled, she entered arm-in-arm with Aemon, backs straight and heads held high.

"Aemon of House Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone, Heir to the Iron Throne!" a guard acting as herald called into the tent. "Rhaenys of House Targaryen, Princess of Summerhaul!"

Everyone was staring at them but there was only one person who mattered-the one Aemon cared about. Rhaenys watched as his eyes were drawn straight to the lord who could only be Ned Stark, from his reaction and their resemblance.

His face was largely blank, though Rhaenys recognized the seeming-stoicism as an expression that Aemon often wore and knew that if she spent more time with the man, she'd be able to tell the emotions he was displaying. She hoped she never had to spend that much time with him.

Ned Stark had had betrayed his family and his king. He had sent Aemon to his death at the Wall, never telling him the truth of his parentage. He didn't deserve her empathy.

Neither she nor Aegon allowed any extra time in the schedule, Aemon wouldn't have a chance to hold any private meetings with his uncle. She wouldn't have him breaking down because of a Stark.

"Jon-" Ned started, but Rhaenys quickly cut him off, refusing to give him control of the meeting.

"Lord Stark, what a pleasure it is to finally meet you." Absolutely nothing about Rhaenys' tone or expression made that seem true, she knew. "Your _nephew_ and daughter have told me so much about you."

Ned glanced between them, eyes meeting Aemon's and pleading for just a moment. Rhaenys curled her fingers tighter into Aemon's arms, hoping he remembered that he was there as a representative of Aegon. He couldn't let his emotions get in the way of _peace_.

"Truly, uncle, I'm happy to know that we may be able to help bring harmony to the realm once more." They both glanced around the room as Aemon spoke, at the grumbling Northern lords who had never given a bastard boy a second glance at Winterfell. "Winter is coming, after all, and we're all concerned for the smallfolk of the North."

"Ha! As if you wouldn't've just razed it all down with your dragons if we didn't play nice!" one of the lords muttered.

Aemon tensed and Rhaenys squeezed his hand and guided him to the two chairs set aside for them. They were almost like small thrones, the most ornate of the chairs in the room, black lacquered wood carved into coiling dragons and red upholstery decorated like scales off-setting them. Rhaenys had been planning for these types of meetings for a long time and had made sure to have all the supplies they could need to intimidate and awe.

"My lords," Rhaenys called, voice full of authority. "We are here as representatives of our brother, King Aegon, the Sixth of His Name. He has given us the authority to agree to most measures that will ensure the peaceful return of the North to Targaryen rule."

"Then you must understand that it was the Targaryens who broke fealty with the North, when Aerys murdered my father and brother, then demanded my head." Leaning forward in his seat, Ned addressed Aemon, as though barely noticing Rhaenys, and she mentally bristled.

"My betrothed, Princess Rhaenys, was addressing the gathering, my lord uncle. Your comment should surely be directed to her." She felt a flutter of emotion at the protective tone in Aemon's voice, at his willingness to stand up to the man who had raised him for her dignity.

"...Betrothed?" Ned looked between them, now. "Jon, she is your sister."

"_Prince Aemon_," Rhaenys corrected, barely containing her annoyance, "is a Targaryen."

"And it is not as though I knew she was my sister for most of my life, after all." Aemon skewered him with a look. "If Rhaenys hadn't prevented me from going to the Wall two years ago, the place I was told bastards, like I thought I was, belonged, would I have ever found out?"

Stark sucked in a breath, barely audible over the grumblings of the people around them. They would't have been told the details, she realized, for all they had known Aemon must have been aware for years.

"I had meant to tell you. After you took your vows."

"After you protected your friend over your nephew, you mean?" Rhaenys scoffed.

Aemon shook his head. "This doesn't matter. I am a trueborn prince of the realm, Rhaenys and I will be wed once our kingdom is settled. And you will show her the respect due a princess of the blood."

Under the table, Rhaenys spread her legs wider, pressing her knee against Aemon's in support. She had hoped he might take some control during this meeting, both because the Northmen might be more accepting of him, but also to show Stark that he wasn't his pet come scurrying back for his favor.

Lord Stark took a breath, glancing between them, and Rhaenys thought he looked nervous. "...Of course, your grace." Aemon tensed at how cold his tone had gone and Rhaenys found a new reason to seethe. "Princess Rhaenys, it was your family that broke fealty with the North. We don't owe you any allegiance."

"Tell me, Lord Stark, have the Starks always backed the king, or queen, who sat the Iron Throne?" Rhaenys countered. "Was not Aegon II in King's Landing when your ancestor, Cregan Stark, was backing Rhaenyra's claim? And before that, did Ellard Stark not back Rhaenys, the Queen Who Never Was?"

He frowned at her. "I don't see how this is relevant."

"Robert Baratheon claimed the throne because of _Targaryen blood_. If not for his grandmother, the throne might have gone to Lord Arryn...perhaps even to _you_. But instead you, and the others in your...Rebellion...were backing an alternative Targaryen claim."

"That...that isn't..." Except Stark didn't seem to have a good argument against that. "We would have gone to war regardless of whether Robert was related to your family."

"But would you have pressed another's claim to the throne?" She leaned forward, shifting so she could grip Aemon's hand, hidden from the others at the table. "In fact...is it not true that your father, Lord Arryn, Lord Tully, and Robert Baratheon had been planning a rebellion even before your brother and father's murder?"

Around them, some of the older Northern lords were shifting uncomfortable and she watched Stark's eyes dart between them. "That was only a rumor."

She chuckled. "A rumor? My lord, we have the Spider in our retinue, we are well aware that our grandfather did not attend the Tourney at Harrenhal because of our father. He attended it because of _yours_."

Aemon squeezed her hand, picking up the topic. "We are, of course, not criticizing anyone for moving against Aerys. Though, neither our father nor our uncle had shown any signs of instability at that point. But your father, my grandfather," he added, reminding the listeners again who he was, "wanted a King he could control. And Robert Baratheon, your best friend, betrothed to my mother, was his choice for that."

"Even if this is so," a soft but well-projected voice from their side put in, "the Targaryen line that the North backed is still viable."

"Is it?" Rhaenys countered, meeting the man's pale eyes and deciding this must be Lord Bolton, who Aemon had known little about but his creepiness. "Can Stannis take King's Landing, my lord? Can he bring down three dragons, half the armies of Westeros, and the Golden Company?"

"Why does the Golden Company support a _Targaryen?_" one of the few ladies in the group asked.

Rhaenys glanced at Aemon and he gave a little nod. "There are no more Blackfyres left to take the throne," Aemon said. "As we are the next closest choice, their kin, the Golden Company has agreed to work with us." He gave one of the little smiles she'd had him practice, charming but not fake looking. "We understand that old rivalries cannot last in the new, better world we wish to make."

"So you're going to make changes?" Stark frowned at them.

"Aye, the three of us and our advisors have many changes and reforms we'd like to make. And many changes that we _have_ to make, given the state your friend Robert left the coffers in."

Stark winced, glancing away for a moment. "And we are just meant to believe that those who participated in the Rebellion will be left alone?"

Rhaenys scoffed. "No, not all will. You, for all its dubious nature, did shelter the King's younger brother and will be allowed to keep your positions, if you agree to peaceably become part of the Seven Kingdoms once more under King Aegon. Your bannermen will also face no reprisal for their part of the war. How the Arryns and Tullys treat with us will affect what will happen to them."

She caught the grimace he gave, knowing he was thinking of his good-brother and good-sister. But the other Northerners around them seemed more considerate, realizing that little would change for them. Except that they'd get Stannis and his fanatical red priestess out of their lands.

"We will also, of course, need you to withdraw all support from the Usurper's brother and bend the knee once more to the main line of the Targaryen family, our line."

Glancing around, Stark seemed to make an accurate enough read of the room not to outright protest. "We'll need time to discuss this, and any other proposals you might have."

Rhaenys gave a gracious smile. "Of course, my lord. We have multiple copies of the agreement with us for you to look over and mark up if needs be."

She stood, knowing that they could stay, could talk longer about more things, but not wanting Aemon to be exposed to these people any more than he had to. He, of course, stood just an instant after her and offered her his arm.

"Our servants will bring a luncheon for you to enjoy while you discuss our proposal. We shall return in two hours time to speak further on it."

Not waiting for whatever protest Stark might make, she stalked out of the tent and towards their own.

"Rhae! We could have stayed with them longer, there were other details we could have gone over before they read them!"

She chuckled. "So they could fight over those petty details? Now they have everything they'll need and a time limit to come to their decision. It will spare us their bickering."

Aemon grimaced. "I know you have no reason to like any of them, but they're not all bad people. My uncle-"

"Don't you dare, Aemon. I know what was done to you, I've seen how Arya is. Your uncle was not a good father." Finally far enough away from the enemies in the tent, she turned to face him, wrapping her arms around him. "Not like _you'll_ be."

He flushed, looking to the side. "That's...I..."

"You'll be wonderful, Aemon, I know you will be. You don't have to make up with Lord Stark just because you feel like you need to. We have Uncle Oberyn, and Uncle Doran, and all our cousins on their side. And Arya, too. We have more than enough family."

"That's not what this is about. I don't know how to explain it. It's just...I respected him for so long, wanted to _be_ him. Being his son, even if I was his bastard...it meant everything to me."

Rhaenys sighed, pulling his head down to kiss his brow. "You, my soft hearted little brother, are allowed to feel torn about this. But he is not a good person. His great honor is, has always been, an illusion. If he was honorable, he would have pushed your claim for the throne. Or he would have told you the truth of who you were and given you the means to seek out our aunt and uncle instead of sending you to the Wall."

He wavered, still, and she tugged him around, starting towards where their dragons were snacking on some sheep. "Come on, I think you could use a ride to clear your head." And to remind him he was a dragon, not a wolf.


	33. Chapter 33

"I should like to speak to my uncle."

Rhaenys stared at him. "No."

"Rhae..."

"No, Aems. He had the opportunity to speak to you for _years_ and he refused to tell you the truth. He let that awful woman torment you, made you feel like you had no true home and only ever half a family. I won't let him hurt you more!"

Jon's heart ached listening to her speak. It was easy to forget, sometimes, that Rhaenys saw some of what he lived. But she seemed to have seen few of the good times. It was those times he was in danger in some way that the magic most responded to.

"And I would like to ask him why. I want to hear it from him, not just speculate."

"...What if the answer just makes it worse?"

He sighed, shoulders slumping. "Then at least I know."

When she walked away from him, he thought she might deny him. He technically outranked her, but none of their forces really acted like that. And pulling rank on his older sister, who was also going to be his wife in a few moons...well, he wasn't that big of a fool.

"You can speak to him, but I want a guard with you-Duck, we can trust him." Jon grimaced, imagining that every little thing that was said would be reported to Aegon as soon as they got back. "And you'll only have an hour, I'm not having you two talking all night so you're exhausted for the ride back."

With the meeting over, Rhaenys had made it clear they would start their return flight shortly after first light. Lord Stark had offered them rooms in Moat Cailin, but Rhaenys and the guards with them had immediately refused. The partial army settled around them hadn't even started packing up, wouldn't until they'd left and were therefore safe from any surprise attacks incoming.

Maybe it was from the expression on his face, but Rhaenys' own softened a little and she offered a small, sad smile. "You'll see him again when he comes to King's Landing for the wedding, little brother. This isn't the last time you'll see him."

"Thanks, Rhae."

He pressed a kiss to her cheek as he walked past her, going to the edge of camp with Duck and sending a guard to request his uncle's presence at a point a little deeper into the nature around them.

Ned hurried towards him and, despite Duck's hand dropping to his sword, pulled Jon into his arms. They were, technically, in private, and Jon let himself enjoy the feeling for a moment before pulling away.

"Uncle," he greeted, watching Ned wince. "Thank you for meeting with me."

"Of _course_ I would, Jon, you have to know that."

"Do I?" He wondered aloud. "You sent me to the Wall and traveled South, we might have never seen each other again."

At that, he looked a little guilty, and Jon wondered if he'd actually felt like that from the beginning or if Rhaenys' words had weighed on him. Shaking his head, he motioned Duck to step back and got a few more feet out of him.

"How are my cousins?"

"They're well, they miss you. Robb, especially. He wanted to come, but I needed him at Winterfell. And Arya?"

Jon's lips quirked up thinking of her. "She's good. Great, even. She managed to make it to Essos and through a few of the cities all on her own before our people found her. And she's obsessed with the dragons." Ned looked queasy for a moment. "They like her, too, especially Aegon's."

Ned's eyes widened. "Does it? And how does...the King feel about Arya?"

Frowning, Jon wondered if his uncle was really that worried that Aegon would do something to hurt her. "She might be seen as a hostage, uncle, but you should know I wouldn't let anything happen to her. Rhaenys and Aegon are fond of her, too, she's practically one of Rhae's ladies."

"So, she'll be part of your household?"

"I...suppose that's true. We don't know if we'll be staying in the Red Keep or Dragonstone, as the dragons would make it simple to go back and forth, but I'll make sure she's safe and provided for, no matter what."

Silence engulfed them, just the noises coming from the swamp and the camp behind them filling the air.

"...And you're well, Jon?"

"Do I not look well, uncle?"

Ned sighed. "You can...if you want you can still call me 'father', Jon. I've thought of you as my son for so long and I had hoped you saw me as your father."

That would be a dangerous habit to get into, he knew. It had taken his siblings and their people moons until Jon stopped slipping and calling Ned that. Going back to it would just lead to frustration that they might take out on the Starks.

"If you were my father by blood, would you have done more for me?" Ned looked as though Jon had struck him. "Would you have fought Lady Stark harder to make sure I was okay? Would you have set me up with a squireship or given me a keep?"

"_Jon_-"

"Would you have loved me more?"

"Oh, Jon." Ned gathered him into his arms again, tears in his eyes, and Jon just let his arms hang at his sides, still wondering. "Of course not. You might not have been my son by blood, but you always were in my heart. It was my guilt and my shame, at everything that happened with your mother, at having to hide you as a bastard and pretend to have betrayed Catelyn, that...that caused my failings."

Jon licked his lips, blinking back his own tears. "...And letting me go to the Wall? Letting me think it was _noble_ to be there?"

There was a grimace in Ned's voice, even if Jon couldn't see his face. "I shouldn't have. Just...so much had happened, we were in such a precarious place. I was terrified Robert or someone with him would recognize Rhaegar in your face and Catelyn..."

Scoffing, Jon tugged out of Ned's grasp again. "She blamed me for everything she thought you did. And any time you did something else she didn't like, or one of your children did, that too was my fault. I thought that was _normal_. But I know it's not. It's not normal for a child to be terrified of an adult around them."

"Jon, I'm _sorry_. I made bad choices, I know that, and if I could take them back..."

"Would you have felt like that anyone? Or do you only feel like that because I know who I am now? Because my brother, who your best friend usurped, who he wanted dead, is King, now?"

"You have no reason to believe me, but I'm glad your siblings lived. I used to have nightmares about the bodies of the children we thought were them, nightmares about the same things happening to you." Jon couldn't remember ever seeing Ned's face look like it did, so filled with grief. "It was one of the many reasons it was so hard to tell you the truth. I should have, I was a coward not to, but thinking about you realizing that your family was dead..."

"Instead you just left me always wondering, not knowing that there was ever anyone that cared for me." Jon shook his head, holding up his hand to keep Ned from talking more. "I'm not ready to forgive you, yet. I need more time for all of this. But...I want you at my wedding. You, and Robb, and whoever else wants to come."

A part of him never wanted to see Lady Stark again, but another part of him wanted to force her to be polite to him as he was treated as the crown prince and she as the wife of an out-of-favor lord and the daughter of a known-traitor.

"We will." Ned gave a shaky smile. "I never imagined I'd get to see you wed, you were always so against such things...I'm glad. Even if...well, I'm glad you're getting to experience what you should have had, Jon. And no matter what, I hope you know that I love you."

Jon bit his lip, nodding. "Like I said, Uncle Ned, I just...I need time. I hope you have a safe return to Winterfell and...and tell my cousins I miss them."

He left then, too close to tears to stay.

Duck fell into step behind him. "Are you okay?"

"I will be. It's just..."

"Someday it will be better." He glanced over his shoulder and caught Duck's encouraging smile. "Let's go find your sister, she'll berate you into feeling better."

That almost got a laugh out of Jon as they walked back through the camp, the black and red banners waving around them and the soldiers bowing as he passed. His life had changed so much, looking back at the past was only getting harder.


End file.
